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The 
ART THEATRE 




v The 

ART THEATRE ' 

A Discussion of its Ideals, its Organization and its 

Promise as a Corrective for Present Evils 

in the Commercial Theatre 



By 

SHELDON CHENEY 



With Sixteen Photographs of Productions 

at The Arts and Crafts Theatre 

of Detroit 




New York 

ALFRED A. KNOPF 

Mcmxvii 



COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY 


ALFRED A. KNOPF > 


Publishtd Octobtr 1917 


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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



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PREFACE 

This book has grown out of an unusual com- 
bination of circumstances. The first impulse to- 
ward its writing came when I was interested, more 
than a year ago, in a project (lately deceased) 
for an art theatre in Berkeley. The problems 
arising then sent me searching through a mass of 
fugitive material. One result was a determina- 
tion to prepare "a model plan for an art theatre 
in a small American city." In the light of later 
experience I am duly thankful that I did not com- 
plete the plan with my then purely theoretical 
knowledge. 

Instead I went to Detroit, where I saw from 
the inside the inauguration of activities at the 
Arts and Crafts Theatre, and had to do, in a 
subordinate capacity, with all but one of the 
subsequent productions. Last winter, as partial 
preparation for editing the newly founded Thea- 
tre Arts Magazine, I visited most of the progres- 
sive producing groups and little theatres of the 
East and Middle West, thus finding opportunity 



Preface 

for comparison and study of practically all the 
important manifestations of the new dramatic 
spirit in this country. 

In spite of the indefiniteness of aim in such 
theatres, and the patent instability of their organ- 
ization, I became convinced that in their activities 
lay the only real promise of a better dramatic art 
in this country. Because their roots were in na- 
tive soil, I felt that here were beginnings of true 
community theatres — which collectively would be 
our ultimate national theatre. And because they 
were in the hands of artists, who, if immature and 
unsteady, were still sincere and forward-looking, 
these playhouses seemed clearly the forerunners 
of an American art theatre. 

Their greatest fault was to be found in con- 
fusion of ideals and lack of organization and 
defined purpose. Each group was working 
blindly, without profiting by the mistakes of 
others, and without a definite basis for under- 
standing the movement in its broader aspects. 
My first hope in this book is that it may provide 
accurate data about the most successful little 
theatres and art theatres; and that in its recon- 
sideration of the ideals and aims of the move- 
ment, it may bring artists to a clearer conception 
of their creative duty — and perhaps inspire some 
with new enthusiasm and determination. Inci- 
6 



Preface 

dentally I wish the volume to provide an account 
and analysis of the achievement of the Arts and 
Crafts Theatre in Detroit during its first season 
— an achievement important enough in the his- 
tory of the insurgent movement to warrant a 
permanent record. 

My point of view differs from that of some 
other writers about little theatres, in that I con- 
sider them important only as steps toward some- 
thing better. In all the excitement about little 
theatres we are in danger of losing sight of the 
higher ideal — the art theatre. I have tried to 
keep that ultimate ideal constantly in mind. 

I am aware that my arraignment of the busi- 
ness theatre is too sweeping to be universally just. 
I know that there are exceptions to the rule of 
cut-throat business methods and art-blindness in 
the commercial theatre — that there are still actors 
who retain a dignified conception of their pro- 
fession, and artists who have not prostituted their 
talents to commerce. But continued association 
with the theatre only strengthens my conviction 
that the arraignment is substantially true and just. 

While this book is much more the result of 
independent thought and experience than was an 
earlier one, in which I tried to sum up modern 
tendencies in the theatre, I am still indebted to 
the writings of Huntly Carter, Gordon Craig and 

7 



Preface 

H. K. Moderwell. I owe thanks also to Maurice 
Browne, Sam Hume and other theatre artists with 
whom I have talked over art theatre problems 
personally. Mr. Eric T. Clarke has put me un- 
der obligation for many suggestions in connec- 
tion with the chapter on Organization and Man- 
agement; and to William F. Gable I express cor- 
dial thanks for personal encouragement and in- 
spiration. 

Small portions of the material here presented 
have appeared in the pages of Theatre Arts Maga- 
zine; but the book is substantially new — written 
almost entirely during the summer of 1917. 

S. C. 



CONTENTS 



Preface 5 



Chapter I Present Conditions in the American 
Theatre 13 

Inside and outside the commercial theatre — The business 
theatre and profits — The immature little theatre movement — First 
steps toward an art theatre — How the American theatre became 
commercialized — Effects upon playwriting, acting and stage- 
craft — Need for a new theatre — The great problem: How to 
professionalize the insurgent groups while preserving the amateur 
spirit 

Chapter II The Coming of the Art Theatre 32 

The American problem in the light of Europe's theatres of 
thirty years ago — The Theatre Libre movement — Its service in 
ridding the theatre of artificiality and traditional stupidity — Its 
shortcomings — Beginnings of the art theatre movement — Gordon 
Craig — Adolphe Appia — The Moscow Art Theatre — Its lessons 
for American progressives — The Munich Art Theatre — Max 
Reinhardt's Deutsches Theater — The Abbey Theatre — Effects 
of the art theatre movement on the European theatrical situation 
— Why America has no professional art theatre — The New 
Theatre failure — America's first steps toward the art theatre 
type 

Chapter III Ideals of the Art Theatre 56 

The distinguishing mark of art theatre production — Its "art 
value" — The synthetic ideal — Appia's "inner unity" — Craig's 
synthesis of movement, light, colour and sound — Stylization — 
Undiscovered arts of the theatre — The experimental ideal — The 
ideal of sound management — The ideal of intimacy — Its mis- 
taken aspects — America's progress toward art theatre ideals 

Chapter IV The Artist-Director 74 

Enlightened artist-directors our first need — Craig's ideal artist 
of the theatre — Huntly Carter's ideal of group-direction — The 
practical figure — The artist-director a modern creation — The 



Contents 

German regisseur — Sam Hume as an American example — His 
qualifications and ideals as typical of the artist- director — 
Maurice Browne as example — His methods and ideals 

Chapter V The Question of Acting and Actors 96 

Low state of American acting — Beauty of speech — Rhythm of 
movement — Group action and pictorial composition — How art 
theatre acting may differ from commercial acting — The dis- 
credited star system — The curse of personality — Must we import 
actors for our art theatres ? — The little theatres and amateur 
acting — Advantages in use of amateurs — Disadvantages — Pro- 
fessionalizing amateurs — The amateurs of Moscow and Dublin — 
The actor's estate under the art theatre 

Chapter VI The Question of Plays 124 

The art theatre play and the journalistic drama of the com- 
mercial theatre — The "advanced" ideal vs. "pleasing the public" 

— Sam Hume's theory of meeting the public half-way — Analysis 
of plays at the Arts and Crafts Theatre — Maurice Browne and 
the no-compromise attitude — Relation between Chicago Little 
Theatre's plays and its financial troubles — Catholic choice of 
plays necessary — The classics — Poetic and realistic — Native and 
foreign — Encouraging native writers — The repertory system 

Chapter VII The Question of Stage Settings 144 

Stage decoration and the synthetic ideal — Evils of the old 
stagecraft — Belasco and the naturalistic revolt — The artists' 
revolt — The improved pictorial setting — The plastic setting — 
The decorative setting — Stylization — Symbolistic settings — 
Light and color — Unifying devices — Gordon Craig's screens 

— Sam Hume's adaptable setting 

Chapter VIII The Question of Audiences and the 
Community 175 

Necessary relation between theatre and community — Organiz- 
ing audiences without supplying theatres — Where the Drama 
League fails — Defining a community theatre — Potential audi- 
ences in American cities — Advantages of the subscription system 

— The Free Folk Stage of Berlin — Extension work through the 
schools — Theatres as social centres — The Ypsilanti Players — 
The Prairie Playhouse — Settlement playhouses — The Neigh- 
borhood Playhouse and the New York situation 

Chapter IX Organization and Management 188 

Lack of business efficiency in little theatres — Value of sound 
management — The three-fold system of organization — The con- 



Contents 

trolling group — Questions of ownership — The artist-director — 
The business manager — His duties — System in handling money 
and book-keeping — Budget-making — Income and expenditures 
during an average little theatre season — Advertising — The venal 
press as a factor in the degradation of the theatre — Endowment 

Chapter X Buildings and Equipment 217 

The synthetic ideal and theatre architecture — The architecture 
of the show business — First steps toward the ideal building — 
Design and decoration — Stage equipment — Size — The ideal 
playhouse of the future 

Chapter XI Unrealized Ideals 228 

S lightness of the insurgent achievement so far — The ideal 
American art theatre — The way of its coming — Present foun- 
dations 

A Discursive Bibliography 233 

Appendix: Productions at the Arts and Crafts Theatre, 
Season of 1916-17, with Casts 241 

Index 247 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

1 Helena's Husband (Frontispiece) 

2 The Intruder facing page 20 

3 The Constant Lover facing page 30 

4 The Chinese Lantern facing page 50 

5 The Glittering Gate facing page 64 

6 The Romance of the Rose facing page 82 

7 The Lost Silk Hat facing page 100 

8 Sam Hume as Abraham and Frances Lousrhton as 

Isaac facing page 116 

9 Lonesomelike facing page 130 

10 The Wonder Hat facing page 150 

11 The Tents of the Arabs facing page 162 

12 Helena's Husband facing page 172 

13 Abraham and Isaac facing page 182 

14 A Doctor in Spite of Himself facing page 192 

15 A Doctor in Spite of Himself facing page 212 

16 Suppressed Desires facing page 224 

Note on the illustrations: All the illustrations are from photo- 
graphs by Frank Scott Clark, and all represent productions at the 
Arts and Crafts Theatre of Detroit. Eleven of the settings shown 
are arrangements of the permanent adaptable scene designed for 
the theatre by Sam Hume. He made most of the adaptations, 
certain ones being worked out in collaboration with Miss Katherine 
McEwen. Detailed descriptions and ground plans of the more 
important scenes will be found in the chapter on stage settings. 



THE ART THEATRE 

CHAPTER I 

PRESENT CONDITIONS IN THE AMERICAN 
THEATRE 

THE art theatre has no past in America. 
Even in the present it is but lightly in- 
volved in the dramatic situation. But 
for the future — the only direction of time that 
really counts when an art is young — it is the one 
certain corrective for the evils now existing in the 
playhouse. 

In considering the theatre as an art it is pos- 
sible to overlook almost entirely the recognized 
playhouses and so-called "artists" of today, and 
yet lose nothing of substantial worth from an 
evaluation based on lasting standards. The en- 
tire organized institution of the theatre in Amer- 
ica, as it is known to nine out of every ten intel- 
ligent people, may be safely disregarded by the 
writer who is concerned with world movements 
and art values. 

Thomas H. Dickinson recently said that the 

13 



The Art Theatre 

history of the English theatre of the last twenty 
years had been a history of "outsiders." Insofar 
as America has had any dramatic history worth 
recording in the last two or three decades, it too 
is concerned only with outsiders. The inside in- 
stitution is important only as a background and 
contrast: for the illuminating mistakes it has 
made, for keeping alive a noble tradition (which 
it failed to live up to), and for setting up an 
absolute dictatorship which, within the last five 
years, has irritated and stimulated a few thinking 
artists into revolt. 

The forces that count in the theatre today are 
the forces of revolt. The actual progress toward 
an ideal theatre has been made in fly-by-night 
projects, by dissatisfied groups, by outcasts. 
These outsiders have usually been rich in ambi- 
tion and artistic impulse but bankrupt in money 
and business control. The future of the theatre 
as an art, nevertheless, lies in their hands. It 
is bound up with qualities and refinements so 
foreign to the existing institution, and its de- 
velopment demands abilities so clearly impossible 
under the present organization, that the only sal- 
vation lies in further development of the insurgent 
movement. 

A survey of present conditions, while leaving no 
doubt about the immense material strength of the 
14 



Conditions in the American Theatre 

regular theatre, and the anaemic weakness of the 
outsiders, still discloses a general condition of 
restlessness and a gradual but steady gain on the 
part of the minority. It shows, moreover, a real 
fear in the ruling mind on account of the petty 
encroachments already made by the insurgents, 
as if the established faction sensed the certain 
crumbling of the present order. 



The American commercial theatre, organized 
as an all-embracing, interlocking system, is con- 
ducted as a speculative institution, with its first 
object the making of profits. It would be idle to 
say that it has nothing to do with art, since that 
is in one sense the sole commodity in which it 
deals; but its art is the art of commerce, the art 
that will please the greatest number of average 
people, the art that seeks its appeal in sentiment 
and prettiness and sexual emotion and situa- 
tions begetting uncontrolled laughter — a sort 
of Hearsf s-Cosmopolitan-Ladies' -Home- Journal 
art. Insofar as it touches within the boundaries 
of the art that is both true to life and spiritual, it 
does so through chance inspiration and acci- 
dental co-ordination. 

Occasionally one sees in a Broadway theatre a 
production that stirs the soul, that evokes that 

IS 



The Art Theatre 

mood which is a response to art alone. But the 
next forty or fifty productions are so completely 
innocent of any suspicion of spiritual values that 
one is forced to put down the exception as a ran- 
dom thrust. In the end it always comes back to 
the same analysis : the American commercial the- 
atre is organized to earn profits in competition, 
and its art will always be pulled down to that 
standard which experience has shown will please 
the largest group of money-spenders. The art 
that goes beyond the obvious is discouraged, and 
the art that reaches down to deeper truths goes 
unrecognized. 

If our sculpture were produced under such a 
handicap we should never have a St. Gaudens or 
a Jo Davidson, but only a race of manipulators 
and imitators producing those horrid sweet statu- 
ettes which our pseudo-art stores now import from 
Italy by the thousand, for "the art trade." And 
if a group of businessmen controlled all the studios 
and galleries as absolutely as they control the the- 
atre, we should never have a Sargent or a Davies, 
but only a race of Harrison Fishers and Howard 
Chandler Christies and similar corrupters of the 
art morals of the newsstand public. The theatre 
alone has been so fettered that it has stifled creative 
effort, discouraged originality, and driven out the 
true artist. 
16 



Conditions in the American Theatre 

Under such conditions it would be useless for 
the artists to try to compete with the majority 
theatre on its own ground. The Washington 
Square Players, for instance, have suffered a dis- 
tinct loss on the artistic side due to the competition 
they have had to meet on the business side since 
they elbowed their way to Broadway. Such a 
group may be able to stick until it makes its per- 
manent place in the dramatic business world ; but 
in the meantime its position both financially and 
artistically is likely to be precarious. The nor- 
mal corrective is far more likely to be some- 
thing distinctive that will grow out of the little 
theatres, something entirely disconnected from the 
regular organization, endowed if necessary, but 
always devoted primarily to art rather than 
profits, and pursuing its way without regard to 
competition — unless, indeed, the regulars come 
over into the new fold, and meet the competition 
of art on its ground. Then everybody will be an 
outsider and nobody unhappy. 

II 

What one has to place beside the discouraging 
picture of the commercial theatre does not at first 
beget much comfort. The "little theatre move- 
ment," distinctly valuable in its small way, is 
yet hardly more than a promise. The faults of 

17 



The Art Theatre 

the little theatre are obvious: an alarming ten- 
dency to fade away before the first summer comes, 
a fine scorn of business management, and lack of 
confidence and stability of purpose. It is some- 
times timid, frantically disclaiming any intention 
toward reform, and admitting only a desire to 
"please ourselves"; and sometimes boastful, call- 
ing attention to its littleness as if that in itself 
were a virtue, instead of simply a sign that it 
hasn't grown up. It is, nevertheless, the most 
hopeful thing in the theatre world today, because 
its roots are in native soil and because it is reach- 
ing up beyond those realms of commerce and 
materialism in which the business theatre con- 
stantly exists. It is rich, moreover, in those 
things that the other theatre lacks: artistic taste, 
cultural background, creative energy, and im- 
agination. 

As these two, the Goliath and the potential 
David, stand side by side, we who have a vision 
of a true art theatre — something dedicated to vital 
plays, inspired acting and creative staging, well- 
managed, combining the insight of the amateur 
spirit with the solid core of hard work and fin- 
ished achievement of the professional stage — we 
sit by, sometimes, to be sure, wringing our hands 
in despair, at others believing fondly that the 
18 



Conditions in the American Theatre 

youngster will grow up into ways that are both 
beautiful and wise. 

A year ago the prospect was black enough ; but 
the season just closed has afforded many reasons 
for renewed hope. The Chicago Little Theatre 
emerges from its worst storm with three years of 
financial security ahead; the Arts and Crafts 
Theatre of Detroit, with no other endowment 
than freedom from the rent burden, closes a series 
of typical art-theatre productions with a clean 
record both artistically and financially; a score of 
new groups with artistic possibilities have sprung 
into being ; and Dunsany, most typical of the new 
dramatists, has achieved wide popular acceptance 
solely through the insurgent groups. 

Even though we see clearly that America has 
not yet developed one normal, permanent art the- 
atre, we who care, have seen the time ripen for the 
establishment of such a theatre : we see its distinc- 
tive technique taking shape; we see artists worthy 
of it — playwrights, directors, designers, even ac- 
tors — struggling up out of the average little the- 
atre incompetence; we see other important artists, 
now dissipating their talents in the commercial 
theatre, who could be cured of the conventional 
mannerisms and taints and brought over to a 
soundly organized progressive institution ; and we 

19 



The Art Theatre 

see millionaires curious about the new theatre, and 
trembling on the verge of endowment. Some day 
we shall shove two or three of them over the edge, 
and I am confident that we shall be able to show 
that beyond lies a field as inspiring for them as 
for the artists. These millionaires, moreover, live 
not only in New York but in Detroit, not only in 
Chicago but in San Francisco ; and they will build 
not an aristocratic national theatre but native art 
theatres. (A real millionaire is not necessary. 
A quarter- or even an eighth-millionaire would 
do, if he saw the true relative value between art 
and his business.) 

If we have seen each new attempt fail so far, 
it has been sometimes because wealth tried to take 
the place of artistic taste, instead of endowing the 
artists, or because artistic enthusiasm refused 
to link up with the practical budget-making 
common sense which is the only excuse for ask- 
ing wealth to co-operate. But no matter how 
many failures there have been, the spirit of the 
little theatre and community theatre has persisted, 
and new perceptions of theatre art have devel- 
oped; and I for one believe actively in the swift 
coming of organizations to conserve that spirit 
and satisfy those perceptions, organizations com- 
bining high purpose, sound management and will- 
ingness to work hard through the urge of art 
20 



Conditions in the American Theatre 

— the only combination that spells good dramatic 
art. 



HI 

Let us for a moment strike back a generation or 
two and see how the American theatre became 
so thoroughly commercialized. Thirty years ago 
America owned excellent repertory and stock play- 
houses and great actors, and the drama gave prom- 
ise of developing side by side with the other arts. 
Through some fault it degenerated instead, and 
came to a place of actual degradation in the art 
world. 

Twenty-two years ago two groups of influential 
managers combined to control a larger field of 
production than either could dominate alone. The 
alliance became so powerful that other managers 
joined, either in the hope of sharing the larger 
profits or in self-defence. The "syndicate" 
adopted the methods common to lawless "big busi- 
ness" of that day. It started a merciless cam- 
paign to stamp out competition and kill off rivals. 
It bribed into its ranks as many big men as it 
could, and then frightened into line as many more, 
big and little, as could be bullied. Then it fought 
the remaining few, managers and actors, by re- 
lentless warfare, closing theatres to them, and 
using all the familiar tactics of the lockout. 

21 



The Art Theatre 

After a short campaign so few rebels remained 
that the American theatre lay practically helpless 
in the hands of a few New York speculators. No 
cornering of a market was ever more skilfully or 
completely manipulated. 

Certain gains under such a monopoly are easily 
recognized. For owners of theatres outside New 
York the new system meant a continued succes- 
sion of companies with tried plays, in place of the 
previous uncertain bookings. When rightly man T 
aged it prevented two similar and worthy pro- 
ductions playing in opposition one week, with an 
empty week following. The theatre market was 
in a sense stabilized. And of course the com- 
bination was a success from the speculators' 
standpoint. Wasteful experiment was elimi- 
nated, profits formerly scattered to a hundred in- 
dependent agencies now flowed regularly to the 
one headquarters in New York, and price-raising 
was possible on a cornered commodity. 

It is necessary to add, before turning to the 
other side of the case — the losses entailed in the 
commercializing process; — that about a decade 
ago there came a revolt against the syndicate. It 
succeeded to the extent of opening the field to a 
rival business organization. The burden was 
partially lifted from the shoulders of the small 
owner of theatres on the road, and the small pro- 
22 



Conditions in the American Theatre 

ducer came back into the field under definite limi- 
tations. But it was distinctly a business revolt, 
and it failed to change conditions so far as the 
artist is concerned. He remained either a servant 
of the businessmen or an outsider. We now have 
two co-operating syndicates instead of one. 

The evil effects of the system in general were: 
loss of freedom for the artist; destruction of the 
training-grounds in which both actor and play- 
wright had formerly gained experience and early 
success; and ruinous control by New York over 
all the important theatres in the country. Reper- 
tory suffered a quick death, since one long run 
costs less money than frequent change of bill ; and 
independent experiment soon disappeared. In 
those individual contributive arts that go to make 
up the larger art of the theatre — playwriting, act- 
ing, staging, decoration — the havoc wrought was 
so great that we have not today one actor to com- 
pare with the best of the repertory days in this 
country, nor one playwright comparable to a score 
developed in the progressive movement in the Eu- 
ropean theatre, nor one director or decorator 
worthy to be placed beside the thirty or forty en- 
lightened ones in Europe. We have not, indeed, 
one theatre artist of any sort who is internation- 
ally important. 
i In the matter of playwriting, centralized control 

23 



The Art Theatre 

of all the theatres in the land meant standardiza- 
tion of types of production, so that the dramatist 
who brought forward anything new found every 
trying-out ground closed to him. "Kept" play- 
wrights became the rule. It was easier and safer 
to repeat a proven formula, or adapt a foreign 
success, than to risk money on untried types of 
play. If a native playwright did get by with an 
undoubted success, it was easier for the manager 
to repeat variations on that than to give the next 
fellow a chance. Such a false standard of lavish, 
if inartistic, staging developed, moreover, that it 
cost a manager approximately $5000 to try out a 
play. Under such a burden of expense even those 
producers who retained some desire to encourage 
native art hesitated to touch anything new. The 
American playwright for two decades thus was 
left without laboratory or studio. Only with the 
coming of the little theatres, and especially of 
such organizations as The Provincetown Players 
and the Players' Workshop, has his testing- 
ground been to some extent restored. 

For the actor the conditions were — and are — 
even worse. The breaking up of the repertory 
and dignified stock companies destroyed the train- 
ing school where so many of the older artists 
gained their most fruitful experience and inspira- 
tion. It made the living of the actor insecure, 
24 



Conditions in the American Theatre 

there being no longer any chance of association 
with the same company in a permanent home for 
even a season at a time. Even actors of the high- 
est class are today required to live lives of per- 
petual uncertainty, because their contracts are de- 
pendent solely upon the financial success of plays 
and companies chosen and presented without re- 
gard to their own preferences and ideals. They 
have no choice but to seek peripatetic employ- 
ment under a system that makes permanent in- 
terest impossible, and one that denies leisure for 
proper study of their art. 

But perhaps the most destructive practice in 
this connection was that of creating and exploiting 
"stars." The star system implies on its face an 
unbalanced and undemocratic art, in which the 
poor is necessarily placed beside the worthy. Of 
the stars themselves little need be said. Some of 
them are potentially great actors and would show 
it if they could cut loose from the system. But 
it cannot be insisted upon too strongly that star 
production is pernicious for the minor actor. 
Not only does it create a false ideal in the com- 
pany, an ideal that impels the young actor to 
cultivate and parade every idiosyncrasy of per- 
sonality and learn every trick which might lead to 
stardom, but it deadens originality and precludes 
breadth of training and understanding, by con- 

25 



The Art Theatre 

demning the rising artist to year after year of type 
parts. The long run and the star system are 
largely responsible for that dearth of intelligent 
clean-speaking actors which exists on the Amer- 
ican stage today. 

The businessmen who changed the actor's 
attitude from that of an artist to that of a mere 
wage-earner are further responsible for the recent 
wholesale desertion from a great art to a great 
industry. I refer, of course, to that tide of prom- 
ising actors who are showing their apathy by go- 
ing over to the well-salaried but inartistic mov- 
ing picture business. Had the ideals of the play- 
house not been lost, monetary advantage would 
not have decided their choice. 

The effect of the system in the matter of staging 
was no less unfortunate than in the fields of play- 
writing and acting. The lack of artist-directors, 
which today seems the chief obstacle in the way 
of developing art theatres, is directly due to the 
standardization of methods in the regular theatre. 
The business man took control and delegated the 
designing of the settings to one helper, the design- 
ing of costumes to another, the stage management 
to another. He insisted, moreover, that each one 
of these helpers do his work in a way that squared 
with accepted notions of stage art, in this case, of 
course, business art. Under such a system initia- 
26 



Conditions in the American Theatre 

tive in stagecraft was crushed, the ambitious 
young artist who went into scenic design soon 
became a machine, and play production in Amer- 
ica finds itself twenty years behind its German 
counterpart. 

Recently the businessmen woke up to find that 
European theatres had discovered methods of 
staging infinitely better than the accepted ones, 
and that in this country certain little theatres and 
an opera house had imported or developed artists 
capable of creating some of "the new effects." 
The commercial managers immediately bribed the 
best of these artists to come to their rescue. The 
results were interesting from a purely decorative 
standpoint, but something was lacking. Broad- 
way pieces were decked in the clothes of the new 
stagecraft — but remained vulgar. The point 
that both sides overlooked was this: these artists 
can do their best work only when they are given 
full charge of the production (if they are directors 
as well as designers), or when they work with 
other artists and not with businessmen. So long 
as a single business man is allowed to leave his 
business office and interfere with activities behind 
the curtain, the sort of staging that creates artistic 
illusion and unity of impression will be impossi- 
ble in the theatre. Joseph Urban and Robert Ed- 
mond Jones take orders from the shopkeepers in 

27 



The Art Theatre 

the theatre; and their work is so changed that 
the spirit of the new staging still finds truer ex- 
pression in Chicago or Detroit than in New York. 

In one other direction the theatre system has 
put us decades behind the best development of the 
Europeans. In theatre architecture we are still 
struggling along in a musty, Victorian sort of 
way. With a few notable exceptions (for the 
most part products of the little theatre movement) 
our playhouses are not in any sense temples of art, 
but only vulgar amusement palaces. At best they 
are showy and ornate; at worst they are inexcus- 
ably gilded and varnished and stencilled. They 
reflect the taste of the businessmen. Again it is 
business art, designed to attract the average. 1 In 
the atmosphere created by such architecture, true 
theatre art is all but impossible. 

Such are the losses to the contributive arts, 
which have resulted from the organization of the 
theatre as a business. To these I may add one 
other misfortune : the people of this country have 
lost all respect for the theatre. They visualize 
it as a business, like insurance, or selling grocer- 

1 1 think that I have adopted the phraseology of Max Eastman 
here. In his book "Journalism vs. Art" he stated very clearly the 
case of business art as it concerns the American magazine. In 
writing of the very similar case of the American theatre I have 
found it difficult to avoid one or two of his phrases — for which I 
hereby acknowledge indebtedness. 

28 



Conditions in the American Theatre 

ies. To be implicated in theatre work even in- 
volves more or less risk of one's reputation and 
standing in the community. In Europe (exclud- 
ing England) the theatre is considered with a 
certain amount of reverence. It is one of the arts. 
Each leading playhouse is as important to its 
town as the art museum or the cathedral. In 
America the gas works and the department store 
are much more likely to be pointed out with pride 
to the visitor. 

IV 

It took many years for critics to realize the 
full mischief that was being worked through the 
manipulation of the theatre as a speculative med- 
ium. As long ago as 1900 clear-sighted com- 
mentators like Norman Hapgood threw search- 
lights on the situation, and Walter Prichard 
Eaton and others have kept the issue alive. But 
it has taken us many years more to learn that the 
theatre cannot be saved from within. Only now 
are we beginning to understand that revolutionists 
who secede from the older playhouse and men 
trained in the other arts must be charged with 
the creation of a new theatre. 

If I have indicated a certain lack of confidence 
in the little theatres as agencies of reform, it is 
because the fetich of size does not impress me at 

29 



The Art Theatre 

all. I am quick to say that what gain we have 
made in face of the loss through commercializa- 
tion is to be credited to the little theatre move- 
ment. At least the playwrights again have lab- 
oratories for experiment, and a new generation of 
decorators is in training. But — and here is the 
central constructive thought of my book — unless 
we carry the little theatres beyond the ideals most 
of them stand for, unless we professionalize them 
while preserving their amateur spirit, unless we 
organize them efficiently for art production, we 
shall be little better off than before they came. 
For otherwise we shall have only a smug business 
institution beside an amateur institution revelling 
in artistic anarchy and bankruptcy. 

At least three groups, in Chicago, Detroit and 
New York, have risen above that reproach of 
amateurishness and crudity which has come to 
be an implication of the term "little theatre." 
They are America's first steps toward art thea- 
tre organization. They have been proving the 
ground as they developed, and they have shown 
that an audience exists. They have helped, 
moreover, to make a clear cleavage between the 
commercial theatre and a new professional art 
theatre as yet in its infancy. But they must be 
stabilized and similar groups must be developed 
out of little theatres and art societies elsewhere. 
30 




THE CONSTANT LOVER 



Conditions in the American Theatre 

For the real art of the theatre in America de- 
pends upon the development of fixed local play- 
houses with resident companies dedicated to 
repertory production of the best that dramatic 
art has to offer. Not only is the commercial thea- 
tre unable to realize the finer ideals, but the very 
nature of the typical art-theatre play is such that 
it cannot be transported by travelling companies, 
and cannot be brought to its finest expression with- 
out the aid of artists working in the light of the 
amateur spirit. Until there are independent 
theatres and organizations in the several parts 
of the country, directed by artists and not busi- 
nessmen, and capable of staging and interpreting 
adequately the best from the Greeks and Shake- 
speare to Shaw and Dunsany, we shall look in 
vain for the coming of the art theatre. 



31 



CHAPTER II 

THE COMING OF THE ART THEATRE 

THE title of this chapter is a prophecy and 
not a description, so far as this coun- 
try is concerned. But I say the more 
confidently that it is prophecy rather than mere 
speculation because one can show that already 
there exist in Europe a number of playhouses 
so removed, by ideals and organization, from the 
commercial theatre as to merit the distinctive 
group title "the art theatre"; and that in America 
there exist today the symptoms of discontent, re- 
volt and amateur enthusiasm which preceded the 
rise of such institutions in Europe. 

From the artist's standpoint the established 
European theatres of twenty and thirty years ago 
seemed almost as hopeless as does the organized 
American theatre of today. The protests of An- 
toine in France, of Fuchs in Germany and of 
Gordon Craig in England, when re-read sound 
remarkably like those of the "radicals" of this 
country. Conditions in Europe were never quite 
so bad as here in the matter of business getting a 
32 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

strangle-hold on art, and deadening all original- 
ity and initiative. But dramatic production was 
quite as stereotyped, quite as one-sided, as on this 
side of the Atlantic. The conservatives had the 
whip hand, and the progressives could renounce 
their better selves or turn to another art. 

I 

The revolt started with the Theatre Libre move- 
ment. How far that development differed in 
ideals from the art theatre movement has not been 
sufficiently emphasized in the past. Its ultimate 
aims were quite foreign to anything implied in 
the later development. But it was negatively very 
important, for it cleared away a lot of the old 
superstitions of the stage and opened the play- 
house to innovators and amateurs. 

It was in 1887 that the French actor Antoine 
founded the Theatre Libre in Paris. For nearly 
a decade he produced there, with the unqualified 
approval of a small group, and with the bitterest 
censure of the conservative critics and public, the 
most radical compositions of naturalistic and real- 
istic writers. Then he founded the Theatre An- 
toine, where he continued the naturalistic tradi- 
tion, but without the worst excesses of the earlier 
venture. The movement spread to Germany with 
the foundation of the Freie Biihne at Berlin in 

33 



The Art Theatre 

1889; and in 1891 J. T. Grein established the 
Independent Theatre in London. 

All these theatres exhibited earmarks of a defi- 
nite movement. All were private or subscription 
ventures — merely a way of evading censorship. 
All announced their object as rebellion against 
the monopolistic and anti-libertarian commercial 
theatre. All were definitely dedicated to natural- 
ism or realism as an art standard. 

In France the movement was narrower than in 
Germany and England. Although a very few 
plays of Ibsen and others of the Northern drama- 
tists were introduced, French drama was pro- 
duced almost exclusively. Perhaps because of 
this provincial limitation there developed no 
French school or movement to carry on the im- 
petus created by Antoine's group. 

In Germany the Freie Biihne was more truly a 
free theatre in the international sense, and it had 
the widest effect upon the regular playhouses. 
Its work, indeed, was so well done that the grip 
of traditionalism was largely broken in Germany 
by the end of the century. The original revolu- 
tionary playhouse went out of existence, but thea- 
tres throughout Germany had then been opened to 
the new drama, and the way had been cleared for 
the coming of new ideas of stage production. 

In England the movement culminated in the 
34 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

development of an exceedingly important group 
of realistic dramatists: Shaw, Barker, Gals- 
worthy, and a half dozen lesser writers. But, 
as in France, the achievement was not far-reach- 
ing. The institution of the theatre as a whole 
was very little changed. The playwright with 
new ideas still finds himself an outsider, and such 
contributions as England has made to an art- 
theatre technique can be summed up in the inde- 
pendent pioneering of the exiled Gordon Craig, 
such short-lived experiments as Granville Bar- 
ker's brief " seasons" as director, and the more 
permanent but less inspired repertory theatre ven- 
tures. 

It is probable that the whole realistic move- 
ment in the theatre has been vastly over-rated 
as a positive contribution to dramatic art. Its 
negative value as paving the way for the next 
phase is incalculable at this early time; and its 
social value as restoring a healthy relationship 
between the theatre and contemporary life is im- 
mense. But its final achievement when judged 
by art standards, its contribution to the develop- 
ment of a distinctive modern art of the theatre, has 
been slight even as compared with the as-yet- 
immature "art theatre movement. " The natural- 
ists and more extreme realists, in the desire to 
limit themselves to showing a segment of life, or 

35 



The Art Theatre 

to proving a thesis, missed something of the spirit- 
ual, the imaginative, the eternal. At worst, their 
plays are displeasing, vulgar, and even immoral 
and disgusting; at best they are narrowed down 
to an unimaginative corner of art-expression. 

The Theatre Libre movement, then, insofar as 
it concerns the present study, had only these ef- 
fects: it demolished superstitions regarding pro- 
fessionalism, opened the theatre to new types of 
drama, substituted a natural (if uninspired) sort 
of acting for the old artificiality and conventional- 
ity, and proved that a simple style-less setting or 
no setting at all is better than the old crassly arti- 
ficial or consciously spectacular background. 
For the really constructive phase that followed, 
for the beginnings of the theatre to be built in 
the clearing thus made, one must go back to an 
independent impulse — to the Craig-Appia-Rein- 
hardt movement, if one may so name it from the 
three most notable artists concerned. 

n 

The most important figure in the new theatre, 
because most inspiring and most typical of the 
artist to come, is Gordon Craig. He was fitted 
by both heredity and early training to take a place 
in the accepted theatre. But during his brief ex- 
perience there he chafed under its limitations and 
36 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

restraints, and finally broke away entirely, to 
become the ablest and most active crusader for a 
new art of the theatre — the greatest outsider of 
them all. 

Craig pointed out first the lack of art in the 
existing playhouse, charging that the men of the 
theatre were purveying a sort of play based on a 
false conception of dramatic ideals. While cas- 
tigating the bunglers in the commercial theatre, 
he protested against the playhouse being taken 
over by either the literary artists or the easel paint- 
ers. He also turned his guns on another set of 
reformers, being always an unsparing critic of 
realism, and never missing an opportunity to call 
for imaginativeness and poetry to help save the 
stage. 

After his destructive criticism came a construc- 
tive one in the form of a plea for artists of vision 
in the theatre. The usual production, he right- 
fully argued, is not a work of art at all, because 
it lacks that binding spiritual quality, that unity 
of feeling, which can be achieved only through 
the creative effort of an artist. The performance 
is a thing of scattered effect depending upon 
chance association of playwright, actor, scene- 
painter, electrician, carpenter, and stage-man- 
ager. If there is one brain supervising all, it is 
that of a business man, incapable of visualizing 

37 



The Art Theatre 

the production in imaginative form, and neces- 
sarily delegating bits of control to this and that 
assistant. Craig therefore called for the training 
of a new race of theatre artists, of creative pro- 
ducers who would be able to impart an impres- 
sionistic unity to every production they brought 
to the stage. 

Through all the years since he promulgated 
the artist-director theory, Gordon Craig has 
sought passionately the methods by which the 
artist could obtain unity of mood in the theatre, 
and he has re-tested every element of stage crafts- 
manship in relation to a unifying principle. He 
did more than any other artist to reform stage 
setting, combating on the one hand the ridicu- 
lous artificiality and the spectacular vulgarity of 
the old style scene, and on the other the false per- 
fection and meticulous appeal of the naturalistic 
method. He sought to substitute suggestion in 
place of imitation, simplicity in place of elabora- 
tion, expressiveness in place of showiness; and 
always he insisted upon a definite spiritual or 
emotional relationship between the background 
and the action. He insisted that current ideals 
of acting must change: that the actor must 
subordinate his personality and become a willing 
part of a larger design, obedient to the will of the 
artist-director, and that the pernicious star sys- 
38 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

tern must be destroyed. He attached a new value 
to movement on the stage, pointing out the emo- 
tional effectiveness of figures moving in design, 
of shifting light and shadow, of changing pattern 
of colour. And finally he pointed out that the 
stage production, which started out to be an art 
appealing to the eye — theatre means "a place for 
seeing" — had become merely a platform for the 
recitation of words appealing through the ear 
to the intellect and emotions. He made his plea 
for a new art of the theatre which would be not 
merely mentally or emotionally stirring, but visu- 
ally beautiful and aesthetically satisfying. In 
these things he laid down foundation principles 
for the whole art theatre movement. 

An artist equally original, but more elusive, is 
Adolphe Appia. He has never wielded the same 
influence, because he has failed to get his ideas 
before the world in concrete form; and in Eng- 
land and America his influence has been slight 
because there has never been a translation, or even 
adequate interpretation, of his important books. 
While applying his experiments exclusively to 
opera, he arrived at certain conclusions which 
have come to be basic principles of the new race 
of theatre artists: that the realistic and painted- 
perspective modes of stage setting are impossible 
artistically; that there must be unity of play, 

39 



The Art Theatre 

setting and action; that the actor is the fac- 
tor to be emphasized within this unity — that he 
and not a trick of staging must be the centre cf 
the picture; and finally, that lighting can be 
largely utilized as the uniting force, binding to- 
gether all the elements of the production, by pro- 
viding an all-pervading spiritual atmosphere. 
The emphasis on the value of light, and the in- 
sistence that the lighting must be definitely de- 
signed to further dramatic meaning, is Appia's 
most distinctive contribution to the new staging. 

From these two, Craig and Appia, the art thea- 
tre movement may be considered to start. Of 
those who helped shape it, of those who added to 
the mass of theory, or proved or disproved this 
or that theory in practice, I shall say little ex- 
cept as they happen to be concerned in four play- 
houses: the Munich Art Theatre, the Moscow 
Art Theatre, Max Reinhardt's Deutsches Theater 
and the Abbey Theatre in Dublin. I am con- 
scious that this is an arbitrary choice ; but I think 
that these offer in their beginnings the nearest 
parallel to our beginnings in America, and in 
their achievement the most suggestive of ways 
in which we should grow. 

To indicate the breadth of the new spirit, how- 
ever, it is well to remember that France claimed 
one of the first experiments in the new field, in 
40 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

the establishment of the Theatre de VCEuvre in 
1893 as a sort of artists' protest against natural- 
ism; that Jacques Rouche made sincere efforts 
to realize the synthetic art-theatre ideal at his 
Theatre des Arts in Paris; and that Jacques 
Copeau did some of the most important of all 
pioneering work at his Theatre du Vieux Colom- 
bier. But these and the English ventures are 
less important than the four chosen for more ex- 
tended description. 

in 

The famous Moscow Art Theatre was founded 
under circumstances strikingly like those sur- 
rounding the beginnings of the most important 
little theatres in this country. The group orig- 
inating the venture was more amateur than pro- 
fessional, and its object was definitely to explore 
regions untouched by the regular theatres. It 
was distinctly a reform theatre, and like most of 
its kind it utilized at first amateur actors and 
students, and sought its designers in the fields of 
the other arts. 

After renouncing the ideals of the commercial 
theatre, and its methods of playwriting, acting 
and stage setting, it turned first to the explora- 
tion and exploitation of realism. It sought to 
create the illusion of life by detailed imitation. 

41 



The Art Theatre 

The experience was valuable in ridding the thea- 
tre of the old artificiality of acting, and in ex- 
posing the f aultiness of current modes of staging. 
But naturalism and uninspired realism soon 
proved unequal to the demands of a typical art 
theatre organization. 

When the Moscow Art Theatre started its 
search for the imaginative, the lyrical, the poetic, 
and the symbolic, instead of seeking mere truth 
to life, it began to justify its name. At the 
same time it began to seek actively that synthesis 
of forces which is the most distinctive mark of 
art-theatre production, aiming to bring play, ac- 
tion, lighting and setting into a spiritual unity. 
It was not always successful, since one hears re- 
ports of decorations that outdid the actors, and 
of Shakespeare plays that had ceased to be Shake- 
spearean ; but the productions as a group went far 
to prove that there is such a thing as a distinguish- 
able art-theatre technique, a method that is at 
once a simplification and an intensification of the 
drama, a creative contribution on the part of 
director, actors and designers, which throws a 
spiritual atmosphere over the play as presented 
in the theatre. 

A third phase brought the Moscow playhouse 
to a broader basis, where it followed neither the 
realistic nor the symbolistic or idealistic alone, 
42 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

but sought to harmonize the best it had found 
in both directions of its early search. It may well 
be that the drama of the future lies in a com- 
promise between these two ideals, or rather in a 
fusing of the intense life-truth of the one with 
the spiritualizing idealism of the other. It may 
be, indeed, that the Moscow Art Theatre has made 
its greatest contribution to modern art through 
its experiments in search of an enlightened and 
spiritualized realism. 

But the points which should most interest Amer- 
ican progressives are these: A non-star organ- 
ization was brought into being, in which the ac- 
tors studied and worked intelligently and har- 
moniously together, while always obedient to an 
enlightened artist-director. The theatre is effi- 
ciently administered as a profitable business ven- 
ture, but businessmen have nothing to say about 
types of play or methods of staging, and the pro- 
ject is not subject to shifting this way or that 
for the sake of profits. The administration is 
three-fold: first, a holding group which includes 
men of high ideals and artists of broad insight; 
second, a body of actors who are willing (and 
can afford) to accept a moderate wage because 
they love their work and enjoy permanent em- 
ployment ; and third, an artist-director and a busi- 
ness secretary who are free from interference by 

43 



The Art Theatre 

each other or from above so long as they produce 
results satisfactory to the enlightened holding 
group. While preserving an experimental ideal, 
the theatre has arrived at a type of production 
which brings play, action and setting into one 
harmonious whole. It has developed artists who 
have gone out to help revolutionize theatres for- 
merly devoted to commercial ideals. And finally 
it has refused to be satisfied with a building and 
equipment inadequate to the requirements of a 
broadly artistic type of production; the architec- 
ture is restful, and the mechanical features afford 
the widest opportunity for the subtler effects of 
staging. 

The Munich Art Theatre has often been held 
up as a model architecturally, and I wish to em- 
phasize here certain relationships between such 
a building and the development of the new art 
of the theatre. Our American theatres are no- 
toriously vulgar, and it is doubtful whether the 
insurgent movement in this country will not lag 
until we have a group of playhouses that are in 
harmony with the spirit of dramatic art at its best. 
Many visitors to the Munich Art Theatre, accus- 
tomed to American and English vulgarity, or to 
French ornateness, have testified to the remark- 
able sense of restfulness experienced upon enter- 
ing the Art Theatre. In such an atmosphere the 
44 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

spectator is immediately put into a state of re- 
ceptivity, and the producer's battle to create a 
spiritual mood, a single harmonious impression, 
is already partially won. This sympathetic sort 
of architecture, no less than equipment of the 
most modern type, is necessary to a full realiza- 
tion of the new ideal. Imagine Gordon Craig 
in the average Broadway playhouse! 

But the Munich Art Theatre is important for 
more reasons than appear in its architectural 
form — though that may be taken as symbolic 
of an all-pervading artistic thoroughness. Its 
search, to quote Huntly Carter, has been for 
"simplification, synthesis, rhythm and beauty" 
— and such aims alone set it apart from the great 
mass of theatres. It seeks to "preserve the unity 
of the action of the drama in co-operation with 
sound, colour, motion.' ' One limitation should 
be noted : the stage was built too shallow, because 
the directors were concerned in the beginning with 
a too-narrow conception of the new art of stag- 
ing — that of the "relief-theatre." The pioneer 
work accomplished there, nevertheless, is on a 
level with that of the Moscow Art Theatre, in 
both its practical and its inspirational aspects. 

First, the impulse for its founding came from 
without the old theatre, aiid it has consistently 
utilized the talents of inspired outsiders. Sec- 

45 



The Art Theatre 

ond, it immediately discarded all the old para- 
phernalia of the stage, and set out to prove that 
conventionalized settings, aided by simplicity, 
breadth and suggestion, could create illusion more 
satisfyingly than the most elaborate imitations 
in the naturalistic method. Third, it stood for 
synthesis of forces on the stage, but with the em- 
phasis on the actors, who, besides carrying the 
story, supplied that decorative quality which was 
formerly supposed to reside in the setting alone. 
Fourth, the efficacy of the production in produc- 
ing artistic effect, the art value as distinguished 
from the mere dramatic value or acting value or 
spectacular value, was discovered to be depend- 
ent upon style, upon the imparting of an all-per- 
vading feeling, a reflection of the individual gen- 
ius of the artists concerned in the staging. And 
fifth, while it remained typically a theatre of the 
artists, it was not thereby condemned to business 
mismanagement. 

The Deutsches Theater in Berlin has been cited 
many times as the best example of a "practical 
art theatre." Broadway managers will tell you 
(or would have told you before admiration of 
any German virtue became a crime before the 
bar of a war-blind public) that the reason we have 
not such theatres in America is that no such en- 
lightened audience exists here as that of the Ger- 
46 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

man capital. For my part I believe that the 
trouble lies in the lack of a director like Max 
Reinhardt, who combines business genius with a 
comprehensive knowledge of the art of the theatre. 
Such a director would immediately find the means 
to build in New York a theatre embodying the 
German architectural ideal — there is no possi- 
bility of dodging the fact that it is the best in 
the world today— and in it he would present a 
series of plays clearly artistic in general tone, and 
yet commercially successful. He would do this 
because he would be an opportunist, with an eye 
to his public. That is, he would vary his ex- 
periments and his productions of limited appeal 
with others that leaned toward the tried and ac- 
cepted formulas; and he would add enough of 
sensationalism to be sure of sufficient audiences. 
Of course the resultant theatre would not be so 
typical an expression of the movement as would 
a playhouse modelled after the Moscow Art Thea- 
tre. It would be a compromise; but a compro- 
mise like the Deutsches Theater would be infi- 
nitely better than anything now existing in New 
York. 

If Max Reinhardt has compromised with the 
older theatre and with the public, he neverthe- 
less has made the Deutsches Theater one of the 
most notable in the world, and in many ways a 

47 



The Art Theatre 

model for progressives everywhere. His stage 
is as completely equipped according to standards 
of the new stagecraft as any other in Europe, 
and in staging and choice of plays he has been 
ready to accept the newest ideas for trial. He has 
drawn many of the ■ leading German designers 
and painters to the stage, if not with uniformly 
satisfying results, still with broadening and grati- 
fying effect upon both the theatre and the artists 
concerned. The acting of his company is one 
more assurance that the star-system belongs to 
a lower type of production, and that only with 
intelligent ensemble acting can the best be accom- 
plished. And if some of his productions over- 
shoot the mark, there still is evidence in the suc- 
cess of most of them that the indispensable factor 
is thoroughness, unity attained through one di- 
rector's all-seeing genius. 

The experience and achievement of one other 
theatre are peculiarly suggestive when examined 
beside the American problem — not so much, per- 
haps, in relation to the ultimate American art 
theatre, but as a guide and encouragement in our 
beginnings. The Abbey Theatre in Dublin, the 
theatre of the Irish Players, was founded and has 
continued as an expression of the amateur spirit. 
Its first phase was "The Irish Literary Theatre," 
an ephemeral institution brought into being by 
48 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

three literary artists, Edward Martyn, W. B. 
Yeats and George Moore — typical outsiders. 
After the Literary Theatre's short career closed, 
its ideals were taken up, broadened and carried 
on by the Irish National Theatre, to which the 
chief new contribution was brought by another 
theorist, in the shape of a simplified, distinguished 
mode of acting. A group of native amateur ac- 
tors under the direction of an inspired leader be- 
gan that career which has carried the name of the 
Irish Players through all the dramatic world. 
Native playwrights, stimulated to effort by the 
opportunity of seeing their plays sympathetically 
and intelligently produced, wrote dramas of not 
only local but universal appeal. Other new im- 
pulses were added, the most important perhaps 
being that of Gordon Craig's simplified methods 
of staging — for that added reform of scene to re- 
form of playwriting and acting. And so there 
came into being an Irish theatre in which the 
amateur spirit lived under professional organi- 
zation, a theatre in which beauty and sincerity 
were guiding principles. 

The economic history of the Irish players also 
holds a lesson for the American theatre. The 
Dublin project struggled along at first in rented 
halls and without adequate stage facilities; but 
at a critical time a woman of wealth recognized 

49 



The Art Theatre 

the merit of the workers, remodelled a theatre, 
offered it rent-free for six years, and provided a 
small subsidy. It reminds us that most of the 
really fruitful art schemes find outside financial 
aid in the years of struggle, and that American 
little theatres must find several wealthy people 
with Miss Horniman's insight and generous ap- 
preciation before the impulse toward an art thea- 
tre can find full expression. 

The effect of the art theatres on the general 
theatrical situation in Europe is interesting, al- 
though it offers no direct parallel to conditions 
in America. In Germany the whole country has 
grown with the movement, and it is not unusual 
to find in court and commercial theatres occa- 
sional or even frequent productions approaching 
art-theatre ideals. The Germans had no monop- 
olistic, utterly commercialized institution to fight 
against, and they already had many endowed 
playhouses. Their problem now is merely to in- 
crease the already large number of experienced 
and inspired artist-directors, and gradually to re- 
organize their theatres with these men in charge. 
France too has its endowed state and municipal 
theatres, but it has profited little by the achieve- 
ment of the art-theatre groups. Indeed, one 
would say that France had resolved to remain 
ultra-conservative, or even provincial, so far as 
50 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

theatre art is concerned, were it not for two 
things: the existence in Paris of the Theatre du 
Vieux Colombier, founded and directed by the 
inspired amateur Jacques Copeau; and the un- 
expected and revolutionary appointment in 1914 
to the directorship of the Paris Opera of Jacques 
Rouche, an arch-progressive. In England the 
continental art theatres have had unmistakable 
influence on the development of a group of rep- 
ertory theatres in the provinces — the most hope- 
ful sign in what would otherwise appear a dra- 
matic waste. These repertory theatres not only 
are keeping alive the best heritage of the realistic 
movement, but are making some progress toward 
the art theatre's synthetic methods of production. 
They await only the coming of a race of artist- 
directors. In its possession of such theatres 
England is one important step ahead of America. 

IV 

In Europe the art theatre revolt was largely 
amateur, but it had its professional side as 
well. Its leaders were as likely as not to be 
secessionists from the regular theatre. But a 
business despotism begets no artistic rebels — 
and so the whole new movement in America has 
developed from the outside. In the professional 
American theatres there were no discerning art- 
Si 



The Art Theatre 

ists, no men big enough to understand the revo- 
lution in Europe and to strike out on parallel 
lines in this country. It remained for college 
groups and mere theatre-lovers to divine the 
significance of the Craig-Reinhardt phenomenon, 
and to begin in their inexperienced way the build- 
ing of a new theatre. 

There are those who will tell you that the en- 
dowed professional art theatre has been tried in 
America and has failed — referring, of course, to 
the New Theatre. In the first place that institu- 
tion was not endowed. If it had been, the build- 
ing would still be given up to experimenting with 
art, instead of being dedicated as it is now to 
the most pernicious influences in the American 
theatre, capitalized sex appeal, musical trash and 
general Ziegfeldism. In the second place the 
director of the New Theatre venture, Winthrop 
Ames, although he stands as the most enlightened 
of the Broadway managers, has never quite 
grasped the art ideal in its finest form. He was 
not the typical artist-director. In certain direc- 
tions he did wonders at the New Theatre, partic- 
ularly in the building up of a group of actors in- 
dividually capable but devoted to the ensemble 
ideal — and his example will prove of value later; 
but he failed to co-ordinate the departments of 
52 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 

staging to the extent of obtaining the unity of 
impression so typical of art-theatre work. But 
the most important cause of the New Theatre's 
failure to establish itself as an integral part of 
American art life lay in the fact that it tried to 
begin at the top, in imitation of the most preten- 
tious European repertory theatres. It was never 
a native theatre, with roots in American life and 
with native experience behind it. If we ever 
have in America a successful institution of the 
aristocratic sort that the New Theatre was in- 
tended to be, it will come after the democratic, 
native art theatre has been established as a part 
of American cultural life. 

Disregarding also Winthrop Ames' Little 
Theatre, since it is merely the most artistic of the 
commercial theatres — its littleness is due largely 
to the desire to evade fire regulations, and it is 
a typical long-run, non-democratic, non-native 
business theatre of the best sort — one may ask 
where, specifically, our first steps toward Ameri- 
can art theatres are to be found. The spirit of 
the new movement is to be detected in almost 
every city in the land, and little theatres are mul- 
tiplying startlingly. But a thorough sifting 
leaves most of them in the offensively amateurish 
class, with not more than a half-dozen carrying 

53 



The Art Theatre 

the best of amateur ideals up to a union with 
professional standards of work. Of these I shall 
concern myself chiefly with three. 

First, there is the pioneer Chicago Little 
Theatre, with its permanent organization which 
has weathered the severest storms, and which in 
spite of a curiously unstable position in its com- 
munity has succeeded in making the largest 
American contribution toward an art-theatre 
technique. Second, there is the Arts and Crafts 
Theatre in Detroit, which is less securely or- 
ganized for the future, but which in its first year 
has made America's nearest approach to a season 
of typical art-theatre productions on a self-sup- 
porting basis. Third, there is the Washington 
Square Players group, which, while realizing less 
clearly the ideals of the art theatre, has made 
many notable productions, and has pioneered by 
trying out new methods before the most jaded 
public in the world. 

In addition to these I shall have something to 
say about the Neighborhood Playhouse in New 
York, the Portmanteau Players, the Province- 
town Players, the Prairie Playhouse at Gales- 
burg, and the Wisconsin Players, all important 
in certain connections, but none quite so clearly 
accomplishing significant work as the three first 
named. 
54 



The Coming of the Art Theatre 



My historical work is done. I have tried so 
far to show how the American theatre came to its 
present distressing position, and how a somewhat 
similar condition in Europe led to the establish- 
ment of art theatres as a natural corrective. I 
have sketched our small beginnings and have 
tried to suggest the direction of natural growth 
toward a similar corrective in this country. Now 
I wish to explore in detail the changes which 
have already come and those which are implied 
in the art theatre movement, trying to shadow 
forth ideals, describing methods of production, 
and outlining systems of organization. By bas- 
ing my deductions on the experience of the Euro- 
pean art theatres, and by linking this up with 
what has been learned by the few advanced ex- 
perimental playhouses in America, I hope to 
arrive at conclusions which will help to stabilize 
the whole progressive movement, which will per- 
haps enable workers in the little theatres to ar- 
rive at a clearer conception of the goal we all 
must strive for, and which, finally, may inspire 
artists and playwrights with renewed determina- 
tion and renewed desire to do creative work. 



55 



CHAPTER III 

IDEALS OF THE ART THEATRE 

THERE is, I believe, a distinguishing 
quality by which the typical art theatre 
production can be marked off as different 
from the ordinary production in the commercial 
theatre. Call it spiritual unity, rhythm, style — 
what you will — there is unmistakably an ear- 
mark of higher art upon it : a something that dis- 
tinguishes a production of Craig or Reinhardt, 
of Browne or Hume, from that which bears, let 
us say, a Shubert or K. and E. label. I believe, 
moreover, that the attainment of this quality, the 
development of artists who will expend their 
genius to bring this elusive something into the 
playhouse, is the most important problem in the 
theatre world today. 

I 

There is in every important drama a latent art 

value, as distinguished from dramatic value, or 

acting value, or spectacular value. This "over- 

value" is to be realized in the theatre not alone 

56 



Ideals of the Art Theatre 

by a synthesis of the clearly marked elements of 
staging — by perfect co-ordination of play, acting, 
setting and lighting — but also by the spiritual 
transformation of the whole through artistic 
vision. This implies the existence of a director 
who is artist enough to harmonize the provi- 
sional or incomplete arts of the playwright, the 
actor and the scene designer, and at the same time 
develop, by a creative method of production, an 
inner rhythm, an impressionistic unity. 

It is conceivable that a certain play might be 
presented in a commercial theatre with the dra- 
matic "punch" stronger, the acting better and the 
settings more striking than in a presentation of 
the same play at an art theatre, and that the 
latter production would still be the more interest- 
ing and more satisfying. For the art-theatre 
method would impart a unity, a harmony of ele- 
ments and a stylistic impression which the other 
would wholly lack. The true art theatre will, 
of course, have better acting and stronger plays 
than any seen in the commercial theatres today; 
but the existence of a distinctive art-theatre man- 
ner of production explains why plays put on by 
amateur or mediocre professional actors, by such 
organizations as the Washington Square Players 
or the Chicago Little Theatre, for instance, oc- 
casionally afford finer pleasure than that usually 

57 



The Art Theatre 

experienced in the best commercial playhouses. 

The first ideal of the art theatre, then, is not 
merely simplified and suggestive settings, or en- 
semble acting, or poetic plays; it is the attain- 
ment of this elusive quality which makes for 
rounded-out, spiritually unified productions. 
Perhaps the best name for it is the synthetic 
ideal. 

As it concerns the dramatist the synthetic ideal 
means that the playwright either must be the di- 
rector of his own productions, or must submit 
his written work to the creative processes of an 
artist-interpreter — just as in music the composer 
must leave his work to the interpretation of a 
violinist, or pianist, or orchestra-director. The 
artist-director, if he be not the playwright, must 
in turn be able to grasp the inner rhythm of the 
dramatist's work, conceive settings, lighting, act- 
ing, movement, costuming, etc., in harmony with 
that rhythm, and at the same time stamp the 
visual result with his own individual genius. 

As it concerns the actors, the scene-builders, 
the electricians and the other workers on the stage, 
it means that they must always be obedient to the 
will of the director, working sympathetically, 
"with answering minds," to create the one desired 
impression. It is true that the actor may enjoy 
a certain latitude of interpretation, but it must 
58 



Ideals of the Art Theatre 

always be within such limitations that it will not 
disturb the ensemble as visualized by the director. 

The synthetic ideal is big enough to embrace 
many creeds of playwriting and many types of 
play. It has room not only for the imaginative, 
poetic and symbolic, but for the realistic and 
romantic. The synthetic method is applied most 
easily to plays with a clearly denned "atmos- 
phere" about them — the plays, say, of Maeter- 
linck or Euripides or Dunsany; but it is possible 
to apply it also to Ibsen, to Hauptmann, to Mase- 
field; and it is not impossible that even Shaw 
might be brought by this method more completely 
into the theatre — although as yet the realistic 
drama leans too far toward life to claim an un- 
disputed place in art-theatre production. 

The written play itself confines the producing 
artist within certain limits. But since the di- 
rector's work is creative, since he reinforces the 
poet's conception by bringing to the staging an 
originality of his own, no two directors will ar- 
rive at exactly the same result: each will impart 
his own distinctive touch, or evoke a particular 
mood. Thus the synthetic result always bears 
the stamp of the personality of the artist-director ; 
it reflects his peculiar manner of producing the 
play as distinguished from the manner of any 
other producer, and it reveals the quality of his 

59 



The Art Theatre 

individual artistic vision. In the spiritual "over- 
tone" it bears the stamp of his genius, and in the 
technique of production it is instinct with his 
"style." 

This individual, personal element prevents the 
synthetic ideal from ever becoming merely the 
concern of an over-specialized group, or the pur- 
suit of a single theory of production. If any 
number of our little theatres become art theatres 
— that is, start definitely and intelligently the 
search for the principles underlying art-theatre 
technique — we shall have as many types of syn- 
thetic production as there are artists in the move- 
ment. 

n 

The synthetic ideal, although seldom called by 
that name, lies behind the indeterminate longing, 
theorizing, and actual work of practically all 
the important insurgents of both Europe and 
America. 

It is what Adolphe Appia sought when he tried 
to create an "inner unity" for the Wagner music- 
dramas by binding the setting and action to the 
music through atmospheric lighting. Taking his 
pattern of moods from the music, he designed 
a series of lighting effects in perfect harmony with 
the emotional and spiritual sequence of the 
60 



Ideals of the Art Theatre 

drama; he subordinated the settings through 
simplification and by throwing over them a veil 
of light or darkness, really substituting creative 
atmosphere for the usual painted or plastic scene; 
and he intensified the action by cunning manipu- 
lation of light and shade, playing groups of ac- 
tors against masses of shadows and bursts of 
light, or half -revealing them in foggy greys. 
Appia's great contribution to the modern search 
for an art-theatre technique lies in what he taught 
later artists about the harmonizing value of lights. 
The synthesis sought by Gordon Craig is one 
in which movement largely takes the place of 
psychological action, but in which scene, colour, 
lights, voice and music have place. In order to 
achieve perfect unity of these various elements, 
he would if possible have the artist-producer be 
playwright, designer of settings, lighting and cos- 
tumes, and composer of the music, as well as di- 
rector. In case he cannot write his own drama 
he must experience a complete vision of the origi- 
nal poet's intention. Craig goes farther than any 
other leader in his insistence upon the absolute 
necessity of a man of vision in the director's po- 
sition, and he would give that man the greatest 
breadth of original invention. He writes: "I 
let my scene grow out of not merely the play, but 
from broad sweeps of thought which the play 

61 



The Art Theatre 

has conjured up in me. . . . We are concerned 
with the heart of this thing, and with loving and 
understanding it. Therefore approach it from 
all sides, surround it, and do not let yourself be 
attracted away by the idea of scene as an end 
in itself, of costume as an end in itself, or of 
stage management or any of these things, and 
never lose hold of your determination to win 
through to the secret — the secret which lies in the 
creation of another beauty, and then all will be 
well." 

That is a poet's statement of the art theatre's 
problem and its ideal: "the creation of another 
beauty" while "concerned with the heart of" 
the dramatist's play, "and with loving and un- 
derstanding it." In solving the problem Gordon 
Craig came to many radical conclusions, regard- 
ing subordination of setting, repression of the 
personality of the actor, designed movement, and 
the value of colour and light in creating atmos- 
phere, which have since become commonplaces 
of the new movement. He arrived at other con- 
clusions that have been slower of acceptance. 
Because the average actor was unable to sink his 
personality entirely in that of the character 
played, because he could not make himself clay 
in the director's hand, Gordon Craig was at one 
time ready to work with puppets only. And 
62 



Ideals of the Art Theatre 

when he was pursuing a synthetic art of the 
theatre based on decorative movement of figures, 
colours and lights, he was ready to discard the 
spoken word, since it seemed to be an interruption 
of the mood. But in all his experiments, through 
all his changing theories, the chief end has been 
the creation of mood, the evoking of a single im- 
pression in place of the scattered appeals of the 
usual dramatic production. 

Since this first ideal of the art theatre, this 
creation of another beauty, is outwardly visible 
only in the setting, the lighting and the method 
of acting, it is easy for the shrewd opportunist 
to pick up the external features and achieve a 
sort of caricature of the true art-theatre produc- 
tion, without grasping the secret heart of the 
thing. The difference between the old sort of 
production and the new seems to lie entirely in 
the manner of staging; and so the astute com- 
mercial manager picks up a few mannerisms, 
gives out that he is staging in the new method, 
and draws a crowd. 

Even so eminent a director as Max Reinhardt 
cannot be entirely freed from the charge of man- 
nerism: he has often made the method obtru- 
sively evident, to the loss of the original author's 
intended effect. There is no doubt that he has 
achieved a unifying system; but the unity often 

63 



The Art Theatre 

is something superimposed by Reinhardt, and 
not a synthesis growing out of the heart of the 
play. 

in 

Stylization in its broadest sense means the uni- 
fying of the play by carrying a definite "style" 
through all parts of the production. In this 
broad interpretation the term is a synonym for 
synthetic treatment. Stylization has recently 
been narrowed by many writers to mean the ap- 
plication of individual style to the play's settings. 
But even when the unifying process is thus con- 
fined to the mise-en-scene, it is still a powerful 
factor in imparting continuity and singleness of 
impression to the production. 

It happens that the designing of appropriate 
settings is the direction in which all countries 
have made greatest progress toward the new ideal. 
The artists concerned have developed certain in- 
ventions which are definite aids to the attainment 
of synthetic effect. New lighting systems make 
possible the creation of atmospheric effects which 
are delicately attuned to the most subtle emotional 
or spiritual values of the play; new mechanical 
devices make possible rapid change of scene, thus 
doing away with the long between-acts waits 
which used to do so much to destroy continuity 
64 



Ideals of the Art Theatre 

of interest and mood; and adaptable settings, 
wherein certain elements remain through several 
changes of scene, carrying a subconscious sense 
of oneness through several scenes, bring a new 
harmony of background. Kenneth Macgowan 
speaks, for instance, of "a curious unity' ' achieved 
when Joseph Urban used a permanent "skeleton" 
setting through all the scenes of "The Love of the 
Three Kings." And William Butler Yeats writes 
enthusiastically of a lingering "tone" of restful- 
ness and beauty running through a series of ar- 
rangements of Gordon Craig's screens. 

It may be that through the search for the ideal, 
through applying the unifying principle to the 
best plays we now know, the art theatres will dis- 
cover new forms of drama more beautiful than 
any so far developed. Perhaps that decorative, 
typically theatric, de-humanized art which many 
of us have visualized fleetingly while we dreamed 
over the pages of Gordon Craig's essays will be- 
come a reality when the art-theatre method is 
studied, played with, and carried to its most 
characteristic achievement. It may be that 
Claude Bragdon will realize his dream of an art 
of moving colour; or that Maurice Browne and 
Cloyd Head, already pioneers in America's pur- 
suit of an art-theatre technique, will prove that 
beyond all the experiments with the story-plays 

65 



The Art Theatre 

of the playwright there lies a sort of rhythmic 
art of the theatre as yet ungrasped and only 
half-guessed. But until we restore artistic unity 
to the stage, until we fit the play again to the 
theatre and learn thereby the secret of unified 
impression — until, in short, we follow up the first 
ideal of the art theatre, synthetic production — 
we cannot achieve what lies beyond. 

IV 

Because it has been sadly neglected by the 
commercial playhouse, a second ideal of the art 
theatre stands out clearly — a minor one, when 
measured beside that so far considered, but im- 
portant. It is the experimental ideal. Recently 
a group of little theatres has come into existence 
devoted entirely to the trying out of the work of 
beginning playwrights and stage decorators. 
The most important example is the playhouse of 
the Provincetown Players. Such theatres seldom 
make any claim to the creation of finished works 
of art. In the first place they are usually crip- 
pled by inadequate stage equipment; in the 
second place they prefer to concern themselves 
with art in the making rather than with the pol- 
ished product. There is a legitimate place at 
present for such theatres; they are, indeed, im- 
mensely important because they offer almost the 
66 



Ideals of the Art Theatre 

only laboratory facilities for the playwright who 
refuses to play the game in the commercial 
way. 

These theatres seem to me to be a sort of be- 
tween-times expedient. They are a first step 
toward the establishment of an adequate non- 
commercial theatre. When the American art 
theatres are built on their foundations, the ex- 
perimental ideal must be preserved; but all the 
present crudities must disappear in the plays 
presented before a public. The art theatre must 
be a show place, a gallery rather than a studio. 
But the point is that it must not become merely 
a museum. It must keep in touch with the pres- 
ent and the future — as most European endowed 
theatres do not, to their present dishonour. It 
seems, then, that the art theatre must have its 
workshop annex. It must allow the author who 
is not quite ready for a professional production, 
facilities for seeing his play acted on a stage; for 
he will learn more in that way in two hours than 
in ten years of studying and writing in his library. 
The Wisconsin Players already have their work- 
shop stage, whereon members try out their plays 
before carrying them out to larger audiences ; and 
the Moscow Art Theatre has its "studio" for the 
same purpose. Provision for such a feature 
should be made in every art theatre plan. 

67 



The Art Theatre 



A third ideal which every art theatre should 
keep before it is that of sound business manage- 
ment. When the little theatre groups righteously 
and courageously revolted against the business 
monopoly of the regular theatre, they scorned the 
good as well as the bad of the commercial system. 
In the regular theatre the artist had been obscured 
in the business man; now the business man was 
lost entirely in the visionary artist. The result 
has been a notorious series of financial failures 
among the little theatres. The fault must be 
corrected before the change to the estate of art 
theatre can be made. To quote Winthrop Ames, 
it is necessary "to avoid the artistic disadvantages 
of purely commercial management, and still to re- 
main self-supporting" — which is to say, self- 
supporting under the terms of whatever endow- 
ment the theatre may have. Of this ideal I shall 
say more in the chapter on Organization and 
Management. 

VI 

Many little theatres have set up what they call 

an ideal of intimacy, by which they mean that 

they want to bring the audience into close rapport 

with the actors on the stage. The truth is that 

68 



Ideals of the Art Theatre 

no production in the theatre is good until it does 
bring a sense of intimacy to the spectator. There 
are spectacular plays which may be fitted for 
immense stages and barn-like auditoriums; but 
any play which has to do with the art theatre 
demands a representation which will hold the 
audience in spiritual communion with what tran- 
spires on the stage. It seems to me that this sort 
of play can be as intimately produced in a theatre 
seating six or eight hundred people as in one seat- 
ing one or two hundred. The ideal of intimacy 
is really included in what I have called the syn- 
thetic ideal; for if a mood is created, the sympa- 
thetic reaction will come as readily in the larger 
as in the smaller place. 

The ideal of intimacy has even been destructive 
in certain little theatres. The crowding of stage 
and auditorium has destroyed the illusion, the 
conventional relation of artist and audience by 
which art is made to live. The spectator, in- 
stead of looking at the action through a frame 
and accepting the convention, and so being freed 
to imagine himself a part of the action, is pushed 
so close to the stage that he is continually con- 
scious of the actors as people. 

I, too, want to bring the spectators into touch 
with the action in such a way that they will lose 
themselves completely in the beauties revealed, 

69 



The Art Theatre 

and that their souls will be purged by their ex- 
perience of the dramatic story ; but it seems to me 
that many of the devices adopted ostensibly for 
this purpose are likely to do more harm than 
good. I am not even convinced that the apron 
stage offers any considerable advantages except 
in very exceptional cases, and I am totally out 
of sympathy with the practice of bringing players 
to the stage through the auditorium. The Port- 
manteau Players' placing of the figures of Mem- 
ory, Prologue and You in the audience is nothing 
more than a bit of childishness, and Reinhardt's 
and Ziegfeld's processions through the audi- 
torium are merely "stunts" designed to attract by 
their novelty. We must distinguish more clearly 
between an art of the people — Percy MacKaye's 
"civic drama," in which masses of people partici- 
pate — and an art presented by artists for the peo- 
ple to enjoy by seeing and hearing. The latter 
sort is likely to be more intimate than the other, 
and nothing is to be gained by bringing tag-ends 
of the performance before the curtain-line. It 
would be equally logical to paint the edges of a 
picture across the frame with extensions to the 
wall on either side, in an effort to increase illu- 
sion. The result is a violation of the law of 
conventionalization, of the tacit understanding 
between artist and spectator that the one shall 
70 



Ideals of the Art Theatre 

confine his illusion within certain limits, and the 
other accept and forget the limitation. The ideal 
of intimacy in the theatre implies not an exten- 
sion of the action into the auditorium, but pro- 
jection of the mood of the action to the spectator 
by means of an all-sufficient artistic expression 
behind the curtain-line. 

VII 

When one realizes all that the synthetic ideal 
implies, it becomes very clear that its attainment 
is impossible in the commercial theatres. Not 
only do the businessmen who monopolize the 
regular institution lack the necessary vision and 
artistic insight, but the great majority of business 
theatres are so bad architecturally that they would 
be impossible bodies for the soul of the new art. 
The most enlightened of the commercial pro- 
ducers, Winthrop Ames, with his finely equipped 
and wholly charming Little Theatre, might by a 
mere change of policy take place in the pioneer 
ranks of art theatre directors. But it is a trans- 
formation possible to not more than two or three 
of those now engaged in the gambling game on 
Broadway. 

What, then, will be the relation of the success- 
ful art theatre to the business theatre? So long 
as the art theatres are crippled financially and 

71 



The Art Theatre 

the commercial theatres wealthy, the businessmen 
will continue to take many of the best actors and 
decorators developed by the new movement, and 
they will buy the rights to Dunsany plays even 
though they cannot stage them adequately. Even 
after the art theatres are properly endowed the 
theatre speculators will doubtless continue to take 
away a certain number of ideas, men, and oc- 
casionally plays, as they are proved of financial 
as well as artistic value. But the art theatre as 
an institution should be so firmly established that 
it will not have to deal with the commercial 
theatre except on its own terms. That means 
that America must have sooner or later a group 
of local art theatres covering every city of im- 
portance from coast to coast; 1 so that a play 
which proves its worth in Chicago can immedi- 
ately be prepared for presentation by the artist- 
directors at the local theatres of Boston and San 
Francisco. There is already the basis for such 

1 It is true that many American cities now have stock companies ; 
but these are in no sense art theatre groups. They are organized 
to compete with the commercial travelling companies, and their 
standards in choice of play and staging fall to the business theatre 
level. They feel that they must be in the high-rent district, and 
there is the consequent necessity of playing eight times each week 
and making weekly changes of bill — thus mercilessly overworking 
the actor and leaving ragged ends in staging. The average Amer- 
ican stock theatre is characterized by haste and compromise of art 
for profit. 

72 



Ideals of the Art Theatre 

an exchange, plays which are first tried out by the 
Provincetown Players, for instance, being seen 
later on the stage of the Washington Square 
Players, and then going by little theatre channels 
to St. Louis, Detroit and other centres. 

Nothing will be able to prevent New York from 
sending its endless stream of revues, musical 
comedies and plays of the moment's mode, with 
their "second" companies, to the road towns. 
But it is likely that on the road there will come a 
clear separation of the art of the theatre from the 
amusement business; and the events that have to 
do with dramatic art will centre at the native 
playhouse. A typical art-theatre production may 
occasionally go into the commercial circuit, but 
it will be the exception. This is true not only on 
account of the artistic short-sightedness of man- 
agers and workers in the majority theatre, but 
because the art-theatre play by its very nature is 
unsuited to quick transportation, hasty installa- 
tion and the interpretation of commercially 
trained actors. The distinguishing mark — the 
sense of unity, the subtlety of mood, the attain- 
ment of the primary synthetic ideal — demands a 
theatre and a drama of its own. 



73 



CHAPTER IV 

THE ARTIST-DIRECTOR 

THE one figure about which the activity of 
an art theatre centres is that of the artist- 
director. He it is who gives the theatre 
its individuality and its place in the art world. 
When one thinks of the Moscow Art Theatre the 
name of Stanislavsky immediately comes to mind, 
and the Deutsches Theater just as inevitably sug- 
gests Reinhardt. Similarly, our own nearest ap- 
proaches to the art theatre type are directly as- 
sociated with the names of directors : the Chicago 
Little Theatre is clearly an outgrowth of the ar- 
tistic vision of Maurice Browne, and the Arts and 
Crafts Theatre is definitely stamped with the 
personality of Sam Hume. The whole ideal of 
the art theatre, indeed, is such that it demands as 
the first step toward its attainment the training 
of a race of such artists of the theatre. 



The man who has led the fight for a new or- 
ganization of the theatre is Gordon Craig, and 
74 



The Artist-Director 

it was he who first insisted that the cure for pres- 
ent evils could come only with the development of 
a new type of theatre artist, a creative, all-seeing, 
omnipotent director. In a frequently quoted 
passage which has become a classic among ad- 
vanced thinkers in the theatre he has indicated the 
need for artist-directors: 

"I have many times written that there is only 
one way to obtain unity in the art of the theatre. 
I suppose it is unnecessary to explain why unity 
should be there as in other great arts; I sup- 
pose it offends no one to admit that unless unity 
reigns 'chaos is come again.' . . . And now 
I wish to make clear by what process unity is 
lost. 

"Let me make a list (an incomplete one, but it 
will serve) of the different workers in the theatre. 
When I have made this list I will tell you how 
many are head-cooks and how they assist in the 
spoiling of the broth. 

"First and foremost, there is the proprietor of 
the theatre. Secondly, there is the business man- 
ager who rents the theatre. Thirdly, there is the 
stage-director, sometimes three or four of these. 
There are also three or four business men. Then 
we come to the chief actor and the chief actress. 
Then we have the actor and the actress who are 
next to the chief ; that is to say, who are ready 

75 



The Art Theatre 

to step into their places if required. Then there 
are from twenty to sixty other actors and actresses. 
Besides this, there is a gentleman who designs 
scenes. Another who designs costumes. A third 
who devotes his time to arranging lights. A 
fourth who attends to the machinery (generally 
the hardest worker in the theatre) . And then we 
have from twenty to a hundred under- workers, 
scene-painters, costume makers, limelight manip- 
ulators, dressers, scene-shifters, under machinists, 
extra ladies and gentlemen, cleaners, program 
sellers : and there we have the bunch. 

"Now look carefully at this list. We see seven 
heads and two very influential members. Seven 
directors instead of one, and nine opinions in- 
stead of one. 

"Now, then, it is impossible for a work of art 
ever to be produced where more than one brain 
is permitted to direct; and if works of art are not 
seen in the theatre this one reason is a sufficient 
one, though there are plenty more. 

"Do you wish to know why there are seven 
masters instead of one? It is because there is no 
one man in the theatre who is a master in himself, 
that is to say, there is no man capable of invent- 
ing and rehearsing a play: capable of designing 
and superintending the construction of both 
scenery and costume: of writing any necessary 
76 



The Artist-Director 

music: of inventing such machinery as is needed 
and the lighting that is to be used. 

"No manager of a theatre has made these 
things his study ; and it is a disgrace to the West- 
ern theatre that this statement can be made." 

In order to obtain unity, then, in order to 
stamp a theatre production with the vision char- 
acteristic of all true works of art, Gordon Craig 
wants a director who is master at one and the 
same time of playwriting, staging, costume and 
setting design, musical composition, and lighting. 
This super-artist would stage his production with 
no other helpers than skilled workmen. I wish 
that I could have faith in the birth of a race of 
such artists; but I think that one such genius 
in a century is a generous estimate of the prob- 
able world output. If we are to go on to any 
sort of achievement in our generation or the next, 
it is probable that we shall have to violate Craig's 
principle to the extent of separating the functions 
of playwright, director of staging, and composer 
of the music. These three men must be made to 
work together in what may be called group-crea- 
tion ; but there is not in the world today one man 
combining in himself the talents necessary to dis- 
charge the triple creative duty satisfactorily. 
Nor does it seem to me entirely necessary that the 
artist-director should be able to write his own play 

77 



The Art Theatre 

and compose the incidental music. If he is able 
to visualize the play in its deeper, spiritual as- 
pect — if he is able to find its secret heart, and 
love and understand it, if I may so paraphrase 
Craig's own words; if he is then able to do all 
the creative work involved in staging and re- 
hearsing it; and if he finally is able so to inspire 
a composer with the feeling, the mood, of the in- 
tended production that the latter will invent inci- 
dental music in harmony with the other elements : 
then he comes as close to Craig's ideal as one can 
expect in a practical world. And that will be 
close enough to secure the salvation of the theatre 
as an art. 

II 

While thus desiring to soften Craig's dictum, 
I do not wish to get so far away from it as does 
that keen critic and stimulating writer, Huntly 
Carter. In his interesting book about Max Rein- 
hardt he outlines a theory of co-operative produc- 
tion, under which the director is to be only a 
leader in a group of creative artists, including 
playwright, stage manager, designer of settings, 
and so on. I wish, nevertheless, to quote Car- 
ter's words at some length, if only to reinforce 
Craig's ideas about unity and direction as funda- 
mental principles: 
78 



The Artist-Director 

"Nowhere is the theatre equipped or organized 
to give the widest expression to the drama of the 
soul. As it stands it is quite unable to serve as a 
house of vision. All that it can do is to show 
artistic intention, give hints, throw out sugges- 
tions, offer scraps of vision and imaginative in- 
terpretation, turn out pretty odds and ends of pic- 
tures, wonderfully pretty bits of imagination, 
wonderfully ugly bits of so-called realism, won- 
derfully deft bits of stagecraft. But nothing it 
has done or can do in its present condition has 
brought it or brings it within measurable distance 
of producing the complete vision, the design of 
the poet filled in by answering minds, unified and 
vital in all respects. . . . 

"The demonstrable fact is that the theatre al- 
ways has been, and is still, a vastly inferior, im- 
perfect, and disjointed instrument of dramatic 
expression. In England especially is this true. 
There the surroundings of the theatre are gro- 
tesque and degrading; its construction is bad, its 
form obsolete, its design and decoration serve 
neither to preserve the gravity, dignity, nor sim- 
plicity of beauty. Its auditorium is rudimen- 
tary; its three-sided stage belongs properly to the 
Stone Age; and its lighting, scenery, properties, 
and other mechanical aids, though effective on 
occasion, never escape the suspicion of being what 

79 



The Art Theatre 

they are— theatre stuff. And if the temple is im- 
perfect, its priests, as Mr. Craig rightly main- 
tains, are imperfect also. If the construction and 
mechanical contrivances of the theatre are crude 
and bad, the human directing, controlling, and 
interpreting force is not much better. It lacks 
unity. In short, the great number of units en- 
gaged in the work of the production of a play 
are not properly organized as a body to give that 
play the widest and most complete expression. 
They have not a vision in common, but they in- 
terpret each in his own way. As a rule they are 
a spineless and disjointed crew, without the faint- 
est conception of a possible unity. . . . 

"The new and significant thing in the theatre 
is the expression of the Will of the Theatre by 
co-ordinated minds, each artist taking the keenest 
interest in promoting the artistic work of the 
theatre, each artist desiring to attain the best 
effect, not only for his own sake, but also for 
that of his fellow artists. This is what may be 
called the expression of the Will of the Theatre. 
It is individual and collective striving of the 
highest degree. Each artist wills to attain his 
best individual effect, yet wills to attain the same 
end as the other members of his group, an end 
which only collective volition can assure. Thus 
the Will of the Theatre springs from a common 
80 



The Artist-Director 

action and a common sentiment, the love of the 
artist for the theatre, and its function is to give 
the widest expression to the Will of the author. 
Thus Max Reinhardt interrogates the alternative 
which Mr. Craig puts forward. Apparently he 
has no sympathy with the Napoleonic tyranny, 
and aims to replace Mr. Craig's seven-headed 
director by a seven-headed group of sympathetic 
and efficient artists who will together produce 
something as great and individual as a Gothic 
Cathedral, with all its parts so powerfully and 
perfectly willed that its infinite worth is apparent 
to the least of men." 

The trouble with this sort of collective produc- 
tion is that artists — at least those who are original 
enough to count — find it difficult to work together 
harmoniously. Usually it is a case of one being 
strong enough to intimidate the rest, and thus able 
to "spread" his department at the expense of the 
others; or else the group breaks up in a row. 
Unless there is the utmost sympathy between the 
several artists, moreover, there is great danger 
that the old lack of co-ordination will creep in: 
the stage-manager will conceive the play in one 
mood, the chief actor in another, and the scene- 
designer in a third, and everybody's teeth will be 
set on edge when the opening night comes. 

Huntly Carter's ideas about collective produc- 

81 



The Art Theatre 

tion were clearly designed to fit Max Reinhardt's 
system. For Reinhardt is not a creative artist in 
Craig's sense; he is a very intelligent organizer 
who leaves the creative processes to others in the 
group of which he is leader. Each member of 
the group is supposed to be " a related part of the 
complete interpretative mind." But the student 
of Reinhardt's work soon discovers that he is by 
no means uniformly successful in harmonizing 
and relating the several elements. The fame of 
his productions rests more upon the even accom- 
plishment of his excellent acting-machine, and 
upon the pictorial splendor of some of the settings 
designed by "his artists," than upon attainment 
of an artistic unity within each play. He has 
brought together the most remarkable group of 
managers, actors, artist-designers, and workmen 
ever associated in one theatrical project; but he 
has yet to prove that the collective creation of 
such a group, when directed by an organizer 
rather than an artist, can have the same distinct- 
ive, all-pervading atmosphere as the productions 
of a true artist-director. 

ni 

Gordon Craig wants an artist-ruler who will 
not yield to his helpers any of the creative 
processes, and who will rule his workers as an 
82 



The Artist-Director 

autocrat; Huntly Carter wants free expression 
in a group of artists, with merely an organizer to 
hold the group together. It is probable that the 
practical ideal lies between the two views. 

My own idea of the probable working-out of 
the matter is this: the theatre will accept Craig's 
figure in his general aspect of artist-ruler, but 
will free him from the necessity of writing his 
own play and music. This, it seems to me, is 
possible because: first, the playwright's work is in 
a sense a finished product, and there is no danger 
of a clash over it — his script is the starting point, 
and the director is free to take it or leave it ; and 
second, music is so much an art of mood that 
the composer, once understanding the require- 
ment, is extremely unlikely to produce a score out 
of keeping with the playwright's intention or the 
director's conception. These two points aside, 
I believe that Craig's described artist of the 
theatre must and will be realized before we can 
have an art theatre worthy of the name. He will 
combine the creative offices of the following 
"artists" of the existing theatre: director, stage- 
manager, designer of settings, designer of cos- 
tumes, designer of lighting. For the work of 
these men is such that disarrangement in one di- 
rection means disarrangement in all the others. 

He must feel the production in all its parts, 

S3 



The Art Theatre 

and he must then have power to confirm or veto 
the contributions brought forward by those in 
the departments of lighting, acting and setting. 
But he does not necessarily have to do the work of 
all these men; indeed, he would be foolish not to 
simplify his own task by turning over to helpers 
such tasks as their capabilities fit them to do. 
The distinction, perhaps, should be one based on 
imagination. His must be the imaginative con- 
ception of the effects to be created in each de- 
partment. This leaves to actor and stage as- 
sistants freedom for self-expression within cer- 
tain limits, but never to the extent of violating 
the mood of the whole as established by the di- 
rector. 

The theory concerning the artist-director has 
come to such general acceptance among thinking 
people that one very seldom hears argument 
against it except from those who, for business 
reasons, do not wish to see the theatre led out 
of slavery. But occasionally a critic insists that 
the principle is wrong because it means injecting 
a second artist between playwright and public. 
The dramatist's work, the argument goes, should 
be put on the stage according to his instructions as 
put down in the stage directions, without change. 
That is exactly like saying that a musical com- 
position should be played as it is printed and 
84 



The Artist-Director 

not by an artist; or, in other words, that a school- 
girl with reasonably good mechanical control can 
give a truer rendering of the composition than can 
a Paderewski or a Kreisler. A written play, 
when considered not as literature but in relation 
to the theatre, is no more a completed work of art 
than is a music score. The processes of acting, 
rehearsing, and designing lighting and settings, 
are creative; and unless there is a co-ordinating 
mind, a binding artistic sense, the production 
will be as expressionless, as incoherent, as the 
school-girl's playing. 

IV 

The theatre of the past has seldom if ever 
known the artist-director. What he brings, a 
synthesis of the arts, co-ordination of the depart- 
ments of the playhouse, is modernity's contribu- 
tion to the theatre. Certain periods in history 
have been known as the golden ages of playwrit- 
ing; others are celebrated as the ages of great 
acting; in still others spectacle reigned supreme. 
Today we excel in none of these contributive 
arts; but we have a new conception, a new ideal 
of a perfect harmony of them all. The past has 
been willing to accept an incomplete art of the 
theatre, for the sake of verbal poetry, or inspired 
acting, or beautiful stage pictures, or because, 

85 



The Art Theatre 

seeing the greater ideal, it despaired of attaining 
it with the imperfect means at hand. The pres- 
ent, with vastly improved methods of staging, 
has the ideal almost in its grasp — if it breeds art- 
ists great enough. 

Goethe in his old age had at least a dim vision 
of a new art and of a new type of artist who 
would be its master; and Wagner had a very 
definite conception of a union of all the arts — 
but, be it noted, of a union rather than a syn- 
thesis. Then came Craig and Appia, outlining 
the new theory clearly and pointing to the meth- 
ods of practical achievement. After them fol- 
lowed a few men who approximated the artist- 
director type — Stanislavsky, Fuchs, Starke — and 
a host of more or less competent workers seeking 
the ideal, some rather successfully and others with 
half understanding. 

Most of these men direct theatres in Germany. 
The German regisseur is, indeed, the world's 
closest approach to a living embodiment of Craig's 
super-artist. He seldom has more than a small 
fraction of Craig's own inventive ability, and 
he does not do his own playwriting. But he is 
usually an artist of taste, and his special work is 
the supervision of the production as a whole; he 
is charged not with creative work in one depart- 
ment, but with creation of harmony through his 
86 



The Artist-Director 

imaginative contribution to every department. 
He is a master of lighting, he designs the settings, 
he sets the tone for the actors and supervises their 
movements and speaking. 

But the German regisseur could not save the 
American theatre to art, even if we could import 
him at pleasure. Our problems are different, 
and we must begin farther back, with a pioneer 
type of our own. Putting aside the few Broad- 
way producers who are big enough artistically 
to make the leap from commercial managership 
to art theatre directorship when the appointed 
time comes, I wish to write at some length of 
two American examples of the artist-director type 
who have developed outside the regular play- 
houses — Maurice Browne and Sam Hume. 



Perhaps the most important point to be noted 
about Sam Hume is his wide knowledge of both 
theatres, commercial and insurgent. He knows 
the regular game, but he has steadfastly refused 
to be a part of it ever since he first caught glimpses 
of the new ideal. He has the cultural back- 
ground which the average person in the com- 
mercial theatre, whether manager, actor, or de- 
signer, lacks. But his academic training was 
mixed with practical work — he did not swallow 

87 



The Art Theatre 

a college education whole. After four years at 
a far Western university he left without a degree 
but with assets which many a graduate has 
learned to envy later : experience in the leadership 
of men, and practical training in the work he in- 
tended to follow. For he had acted not only with 
amateur groups, but with visiting professional 
companies, and he had helped in the production 
of plays on stages both indoors and out. Then 
followed his brief experience in the commercial 
theatre, beginning in America and ending in Eng- 
land. Travel in Europe helped to convince him 
of the cheapness of standards existing on the 
English-speaking stage, but it was not until he 
talked with Gordon Craig that the vision of a 
new art of the theatre spread before him. In 
the months during which he worked side by side 
with Craig he learned much not only about ideals 
but about the methods through which the great- 
est of the progressives hoped to revolutionize 
stage art. 

By way of maintaining the balance, of keep- 
ing his grasp on that which the usual worker in 
the theatre lacks, Hume returned to an Ameri- 
can university after his association with Craig, 
gaining a new historical and theoretical perspec- 
tive on his work, and incidentally decorating 
himself with two useless degrees. Then followed 
88 



The Artist-Director 

a period of directing amateur and semi-profes- 
sional groups. But it was in 1915 that he first 
came to wide public notice through an extensive 
display of models and drawings illustrating mod- 
ern stagecraft, which he assembled and exhibited 
in Cambridge, New York, Chicago and Detroit. 

By that time Hume had the combination of 
qualifications which fitted him for the work an 
artist-director is called on to do. First, through 
his broad education he had the taste which en- 
abled him to distinguish real drama from the 
type of play passing current on Broadway. 
Second, he had enough practical knowledge of 
the traditional stage to be able to choose such 
existing mechanical devices and technical aids 
as might be of use in a theatre constructed ac- 
cording to the new ideals. And third, he had 
become thoroughly imbued with the new spirit, 
and had studied every department of theatre pro- 
duction — playwriting, acting, lighting, setting, 
stage management — in reference to the Craig- 
Appia-Reinhardt ideal. 

When Hume was called to Detroit to take 
charge of the Arts and Crafts Theatre there, he 
found the opportunity to test and prove his pow- 
ers as combined artist and director. The breadth 
of his work is illuminating as showing what 
problems the pioneer director of an American art 

89 



The Art Theatre 

theatre is likely to meet. In the first place he 
worked with the architects of the Arts and Crafts 
building, and effected modifications of the stage 
plans, which resulted in the creation of one of 
the best little theatre stages in America. He de- 
signed the lighting equipment and supervised its 
installation ; and he designed a permanent adapt- 
able setting, including a modification of the 
plaster "sky-dome." 

In the season's productions he was given full 
charge of every department of creative work, and 
while he enjoyed the co-operation of a group of 
enlightened artists, his word was final in every 
questioned detail. If he did not choose all the 
plays, it is at least certain that none was decided 
upon without his approval. He individually de- 
signed most of the settings, and he worked per- 
sonally with the artists whose names appeared as 
designers of the others. He worked out every 
lighting effect. He tried out, and helped to de- 
velop by individual training, every actor. And 
he rehearsed every play, looking after all those 
matters of movement, gesture and co-ordination 
of action which, while not noticeable to the audi- 
ence, are important aids to synthetic effect. 

In the historical and romantic productions he 
left only one creative portion of the work to oth- 
ers. Because certain of his co-workers were 
90 



The Artist-Director 

artists as well as expert workers in costume mak- 
ing, he left to them the dressing of the figures, 
making sure only that the types were right, and 
the colours in keeping with the settings. 

Hume's services to the Arts and Crafts The- 
atre did not end with complete responsibility 
behind the curtain. Much of the preliminary 
work of organization and management, which 
should be the concern of others in any mature art 
theatre project, were necessarily left to him — 
as they probably will be in many another little 
theatre where a professional director is called to a 
virgin field. He lectured extensively before 
schools, clubs and assemblies, and otherwise 
helped to interest the community in the theatre. 
And he later arranged other lectures and a teach- 
ers' class in an effort to carry the results of the 
theatre's work to a wider circle. 

If the first season at the Arts and Crafts The- 
atre had accomplished nothing else it still would 
have been worth while as proving that America 
has one artist who can be called in to organize and 
direct a progressive theatre, designing his own 
stage, if necessary, and then directing a series of 
productions approaching the best ideals of the art 
theatre, with expert attention to every creative 
detail. For Hume has shown himself to be, first, 
an imaginative artist and inventive innovator, and 

91 



The Art Theatre 

second, a born executive and leader of men. He 
is an example of that type of theatre artist of 
which America stands in greatest need. 

VI 

Maurice Browne, the other typical artist-direc- 
tor of America, affords an interesting contrast to 
Hume ; but it is to be noted that his qualifications 
include the same combination of capacity for 
leadership with artistic feeling and broad cul- 
tural training. But Browne's work has been nar- 
rower in a sense. He has preferred to devote his 
whole career in the theatre to one playhouse, and 
I think that he feels that his future is definitely 
bound up with the movement in Chicago. And 
he maintains the balance of artist and manager 
less successfully than does Hume. He is more 
clearly the artist-thinker — certainly more a 
dreamer — and less a practical director. Just 
because his aesthetic sense is more acute, his the- 
atre has been concerned more closely (and more 
successfully) than any other with the pursuit of a 
typical art-theatre technique — and so has been 
less related to the community in which it exists. 
Hume is more of a practical idealist, not only in 
the sense of combining business sense with artis- 
tic insight, but because he is willing to compromise 
with his public in order to get his idealistic pro- 
92 



The Artist-Director 

ject securely started. Maurice Browne, with the 
artist's dislike of compromise, stuck to his con- 
victions, producing a remarkable array of typical 
art-theatre plays, but ending in temporary bank- 
ruptcy and insecurity. 

It is not within my province here to ask which 
is the better method — of course we want the un- 
compromising spirit of the one achievement, with 
the financial success and the community solidarity 
of the other — but it is at least worth while to 
point out the two types in contrast. And it is im- 
portant to note that Maurice Browne, like Hume, 
insists upon the importance of concentrating the 
creative functions of stage work in one artist's 
hands. He insists that this artist must be more 
than a mere theorist and designer; he must be 
a workman as well. He must have knowledge, 
too, of the older theatre, in order that while look- 
ing into the future he may keep in touch with the 
present and avoid the mistakes of the past. I 
wish to close the chapter with a quotation from 
an essay which Maurice Browne wrote as a plea 
for the establishment of an American art theatre : 

"The man or woman who would establish an 
art theatre that is an art theatre and not a pet 
rabbit fed by hand, must be able to design it, to 
ventilate it, to decorate it, to equip its stage, to 
light it (and to handle its lighting himself, or 

93 



The Art Theatre 

his electricians will not listen to him), to plan 
his costumes and scenery, ay, and at a shift to 
make them with his own hand; otherwise his 
costumer and scene-painter, if he be fool enough 
to have one, will do strange things to send him 
nightmares at dawn and terrify his wife; and in 
addition to all these things that are essential, he 
will, if he be a wise man, have the stage-conven- 
tions of the last generation at his finger-tips — not 
merely because some of them are useful and most 
of them deader than Lazarus and so avoidable 
with foresight and a good nose . . . but because 
he is establishing an art theatre, that is to say, 
imposing a living convention on a dead one, so 
that it is as well for him to know what the dead 
one was, and why, for example, Pinero and Suder- 
mann are of it, while von Hoffmansthal and 
Abercrombie are not. And finally he will know 
not merely the names of Nijinski and Craig and 
Fortuny and half a hundred more, but what they 
have done, and, most important of all, how and 
why they have done it. And the reason he must 
know these things, which the millionaire and the 
pauper dilettante who are dabbling today in the 
art of the American theatre do not know, is that 
he is establishing an art theatre which shall be 
the temple of a living art." 

And so the chapter closes. I hope that the 
94 



The Artist-Director 

reader will carry in his recollection of it a pic- 
ture of the artist-director combining qualities of 
Craig and Reinhardt, Hume and Browne — a new 
man of the theatre who is at once thinking artist 
and practical workman, dreamer and executive, 
machinist and priest of the temple that will be the 
new theatre. 



95 



CHAPTER V 

THE QUESTION OF ACTING AND ACTORS 

WHEN one surveys the whole field of 
the American theatre, commercial 
and progressive, one soon discovers 
that, next to the problem of artist-directors, the 
most puzzling question facing the art-theatre 
group is that of acting and actors. In the de- 
partments of playwriting and stagecraft we have 
at least arrived at a basis of intelligent experi- 
mentation, if not at some sort of substantial 
achievement; but in the matter of acting we are 
merely in a muddle. 

The question is two-fold. First, it is necessary 
to arrive at some understanding of the distin- 
guishing qualities of art-theatre acting; that is, 
it is necessary to discover the lasting ideals of 
acting as an art, and to note the differences, if 
any, which may be expected to mark off its prac- 
tice under the synthetic ideal of theatre produc- 
tion. And second, it is pertinent to inquire 
where the actors for the art theatre are to come 
from: whether a certain number or all can be 
96 



Acting and Actors 

redeemed from the ways of the business theatre — 
and whether a small minority or perhaps a ma- 
jority are to come from what are now amateur 
rather than professional channels. 

In the commercial theatre the ideals of acting 
have been lost; or if any remain, they are those 
which concern the development (and consequent 
personal glorification) of the individual actor, 
and are not such as would contribute to the en- 
semble effect required in progressive theatres. In 
the average little theatre, on the other hand, the 
acting has merely "happened"; and if the in- 
surgent groups have developed an ideal, it has 
been only that of unconvention — a negatively de- 
cent but somewhat barren ideal, which overlooks 
beauty of speech, distinction of manner and de- 
signed group movement. And in those few cases 
in which amateur and professional have joined 
hands — the Washington Square Players and the 
Portmanteau Players are examples — lack of in- 
spired direction has left the companies on a low 
professional plane: they have exhibited neither 
the smoothness of action of the first-rate profes- 
sional company, nor the freshness, the felicitous 
speech and the team-work which alone can make 
the amateur superior to the commercial player. 

Where, then, should one seek to find models? 
Clearly, not in America. Only by a study of 

97 



The Art Theatre 

the best acting in European theatres, and par- 
ticularly in those theatres in which rounded-out, 
balanced production has been made the chief aim, 
can one discover a sound basis for a theory of 
the acting of the future. 



Of the attributes of great acting which have 
been all but lost to the theatre in the last quarter- 
century, the most sadly neglected is beauty of 
speech. In this country the actors have forgot- 
ten almost entirely that there is a legitimate ap- 
peal to the ear in words musically spoken, and 
our stage has fallen to a dead level of prosaic and 
slovenly speech. In voice quality and enuncia- 
tion the standard set in our theatres is not ap- 
preciably superior to that heard in our barber 
shops or college halls — which is to say that it 
approaches an ungodly combination of stridency 
and mumbling. Speech of the sort natural to 
nine out of ten of the men and women on the 
American stage can have no place in the scheme 
of art theatre production. 

It is clear how the theatre came to such a de- 
graded standard of speaking. Some decades ago, 
as an aftermath of the romantic revival, perhaps, 
the art of acting became a sad caricature of its 
once beautiful self, through over-accentuation and 
98 



Acting and Actors 

an absurd artificiality. Quiet and restrained im- 
personation was lost in an excess of ranting speech 
and heroic attitudes. When the naturalistic 
movement swept the theatre, the artificiality was 
destroyed, but nothing was invented to take the 
place of what had once been a legitimate added 
beauty of the theatre production. Poetry of 
speech was allowed, so to speak, to pass down and 
out entirely. The actor jumped from an exag- 
gerated conventionalization to a method which 
was supposed to be "perfectly natural." But 
one cannot capture the illusion of the natural 
by unrelieved, unconventionalized imitation of 
chance aspects of life — whether in speech or 
movement or form and colour. Insofar as the 
actor imitates without betterment the language of 
the street and the shop, he loses the only thing 
that can make speech tolerable, not to say lovely, 
in the theatre. 

The first requirement for bringing beauty of 
speech to the stage is a purely mechanical one: 
clean enunciation. As a nation we are notorious 
for our slurring methods of utterance. We do 
not break our words and phrases cleanly. But 
that is not a reason for accepting careless speak- 
ing in a work of art on the stage. Actors should 
rather set an example to the nation. In an art 
theatre, or in one that makes pretension even to 

99 



The Art Theatre 

near-art standards, this should be a first test of 
the actor. Walter Prichard Eaton recently put 
it up to the little theatres neatly when he wrote: 
"The rankest amateur ought to be able to pro- 
nounce correctly, and enunciate all the syllables 
of a polysyllabic word without swallowing the 
penult. If he cannot, he should be politely in- 
vited to become a professional and join Mr. 
Cohan's company. When you enter a little thea- 
tre you ought at least to be confident of hearing 
better speech than in any Broadway production. " 

The second requirement is partly a matter of 
physical endowment and partly a matter of train- 
ing : a musical voice and flexible register. There 
may be people with "impossible" voices. If so, 
they should stay off the stage; they are no more 
fitted to become actors than a one-handed man 
is fitted to become a pianist. But most voices, 
if not naturally musical, can be trained so that 
they are at least passively pleasing; and most of 
us possess undeveloped tone-registers of which we 
never even dream. It is the business of schools of 
acting and studio theatres to develop this quality. 

But after all, the potentially musical voice is 
of small importance if it goes not in company 
with the third requirement: a feeling for the ex- 
pressiveness of speech. For otherwise the golden 
100 




THE LOST SILK HAT 



Acting and Actors 

instrument in the throat will return to dust with 
its harmonies una wakened. 

This matter of feeling is a variable quantity 
and an elusive quality; but we may be sure that 
it is never absent from the true actor's make-up. 
It enables the herald to speak his one line in a 
manner worthy of his courtly surroundings; and 
it enables Sarah Bernhardt to ring every change 
of feeling through the music of her inflection. It 
is first of all a feeling for the rhythms of speech, 
for the cadences of the poet's lines; but more 
than that, it is a reflection and a suggestion of 
the subtleties and intensities of the emotions that 
lie hidden behind the action. For words are at 
best but symbols, and the impression called up 
depends upon the way of speaking. An inex- 
pressive voice affords but a hard dry shell of 
meaning, whereas the same words from the lips 
of a master of speech may call up visions of pas- 
sion or of calmness, of tenderness or love or 
sorrow — may afford overtones of feeling other- 
wise never captured. 

These two things, then, we may assuredly de- 
mand of the new acting: that in the speaking 
there shall be a sequence of musical notes, a 
pattern of sound that will bring a physical de- 
light to the ear; and that the voice modulation 

101 



The Art Theatre 

shall reflect a delicate understanding of the emo- 
tion and thought underlying the surface play of 
words. 

Poetry of speech is not properly a requirement 
of poetic productions alone, but should pertain to 
realistic drama as well. For its beauty is not 
such that it detracts from interest in the action, 
but rather is an added loveliness. It is not 
ornament superimposed, and covering the struc- 
tural lines, but rather a part of the structure it- 
self, a part necessary to the expression of truth. 
There are, of course, poetic dramas which lend 
themselves particularly to musical interpretation, 
which allow the actor greater latitude in delicate 
musical intonation. There are even plays which, 
on account of lack of action, may be termed liter- 
ary rather than dramatic, and which may still 
be staged satisfyingly through the appeal of the 
spoken poetry, for the sake of the sensuous beauty 
afforded to the ear. Such are several of the plays 
of Yeats and Dunsany. But even the realistic 
play can legitimately add the appeal of distin- 
guished speaking. Unbeautiful speech, indeed, 
has no right place on the stage even of a realistic 
theatre. An exhibition of commonplaceness there 
is no more to be condoned than are those so-called 
naturalistic plays which reveal a photographic 
segment of sordid life. 
102 



Acting and Actors 

ii 

After the music of speech there is a corre- 
sponding requirement of rhythm in the actor's 
movements. Not only must his gestures be 
quietly expressive, but there must be a certain 
grace of bodily action, and a measured fluidity 
or rhythm in changes from posture to posture. 
Just as in the use of the voice, there must be 
overtones of feeling: the face, the hands, the 
body and limbs must interpret the subtler emo- 
tion which are not expressed in the larger actions. 
For the face when used as a mask, and the body 
when directed as an instrument of rhythmic ex- 
pression, can register shades of feeling which are 
impossible even to the perfectly modulated voice. 

In the American theatre there used to be gen- 
erations of actors who possessed the subtlest pow- 
ers of expression and distinguished grace of bear- 
ing. The older generation in the theatre today 
has a charm of manner, a dignity of presence, 
which shames the average player. If this some- 
times amounts to a romantic affectation or arti- 
ficiality, so that we are apt to say disparagingly, 
"He has the manner of an old actor/' it still is 
no argument for throwing away the principle of 
beautiful movement. One has only to choose 
ten young actors and place them beside a typical 

103 



The Art Theatre 

representative of the old school, to know that we 
have lost a real charm from the making of our 
players of today. For the American stage is 
slowly being taken over by a generation of actors 
untrained to the old distinction of bearing, and 
one that trusts little to delicacy and shading of 
expression. 

We have today a commercial stage peopled by 
personalities, each trained to parade individual 
idiosyncrasies or to rely on perfect "naturalness" 
of movement. For this the little theatre players 
substitute no training at all. At least they have 
not spent those years of apprenticeship to ex- 
perience which are necessary to perfect stage pres- 
ence. One sometimes wonders whether one- 
fourth — nay, one-tenth — of the actors blithely ap- 
pearing on little theatre stages know that there 
is such a thing as scientific foot-work, or that 
the best of the older generation went through years 
of bodily training to gain ease of movement. 

Expression on the stage may be partly a mat- 
ter of natural feeling and intuition, although in- 
tellectual understanding and tortuous training 
have distinct place there too. But grace of bear- 
ing, the poetry of movement, can be developed 
in any one with even an elementary sense of 
rhythm. The leading two art theatres of Europe, 
the Moscow Art Theatre and the Deutsches Thea- 
104 



Acting and Actors 

ter at Berlin, in order to train their actors and 
students in the art of movement, have established 
courses in the Dalcroze system of rhythmical 
dancing. This, it is to be noted, is not in order 
to develop dancers, but to give players poise and 
action-control. Regarding the ideas of Jaques- 
Dalcroze, Huntly Carter has written as follows: 

"The inventor has discovered that we all have 
musical rhythm in us answering to that of the 
universe, but very few are trained to express it. 
So he has provided a simple key which any one 
can apply. He gives his pupils a quantity of 
musical notes, and leaves each pupil free to com- 
pose his or her own musical movements. In 
this view, every movement we make should and 
could be equivalent to a note of music, and, given 
the right note, there will be an harmonious re- 
sponse. If we are trained to realize these notes 
with the aid of music, soon we come to realize 
them automatically without its aid. Thus we 
may, if we like, learn to move through life in 
compositions in which spontaneous melody and 
rhythm, and not mechanical, logical, or meaning- 
less actions, are the essentials." 

It is perhaps too much to ask that any great 
number of Americans shall soon "learn to move 
through life" with anything approaching "spon- 
taneous melody and rhythm." But we have the 

105 



The Art Theatre 

right at least to ask that our dramatic schools — 
and art theatres, when they come — shall train 
actors in the principles of some such system as 
Jaques-Dalcroze has invented. 

Beyond the matter of individual action, which 
is summed up in expression, gesture, and personal 
bearing, there is a wider group action, a designed 
relationship between player and player, which 
is too seldom practised intelligently in the Ameri- 
can theatre. This is due partly to the scramble 
for the centre of the stage, on the part of the 
"big" actors, and partly to the filling in of minor 
parts with mere "support," so that certain char- 
acters are played up continually, while others 
do their work either perfunctorily or inexpertly; 
but it is due chiefly to the lack of directors with 
sufficient artistic knowledge to make the play 
a concert of movement. The group-playing of 
the Irish Players comes to mind as an excellent 
example of unpretentious but intelligent related 
acting. Without emphasizing personalities, they 
always managed to throw the speaker into relief, 
the other actors falling into a background neces- 
sary to the picture but never interrupting the 
main motive; and there was about their stage 
groupings a gratifying smoothness, almost a 
fluidity of movement. In certain poetic produc- 
tions, and particularly in those which rely upon 
106 



Acting and Actors 

the appeal to the eye as much as the appeal to 
the ear, it is possible to keep the grouping almost 
constantly in the realm of pictorial design. 
Maurice Browne is a genius in the application 
of the principles of pictorial composition to stage 
arrangement, and in several of his productions 
the figures have been so disposed that the eye was 
enchanted by a continual series of charmingly 
composed pictures. Such grouping can be over- 
done, to the harm of the spiritual content of 
the drama — but so far it has been radically un- 
derdone on the American stage. 

in 

Having arrived at some understanding of the 
elementary ideals of acting, having discovered 
what things have been lost out of the art through 
its commercialization, one may ask how the act- 
ing at a typical art theatre may be expected to 
differ from that at any commercial theatre which 
may also raise its standard to include musical 
speaking, expressive and pleasing action, and in- 
telligent group-playing. In the first place there 
will be a quietness of tone pervading the art 
theatre in the playing as in every other depart- 
ment of production. For this is to be the temple 
of the highest art, and high art is always marked 
by reticence and a reverential rather than a for- 

107 



The Art Theatre 

ward spirit. This quieter method of acting, 
moreover, will be the means of bringing a truer 
balance, of giving the wider dramatic meaning 
fuller scope for expression. William Butler 
Yeats, who has been particularly concerned with 
methods which would do justice to poetry spoken 
on the stage, once wrote in praise of the acting 
of the Irish Players: "It was the first perform- 
ance I had seen, since I understood these things, 
in which the actors kept still enough to give 
poetical writing its full effect upon the stage." 
From practically all the European theatres in 
which the art-theatre ideal has been sought, critics 
report that the acting has been marked by a com- 
bination of quietness and distinction. Just as, 
under the synthetic ideal, the setting must be un- 
obtrusive enough to avoid interference with the 
action, and the lighting modified to harmonize 
with the mood of the drama, so the acting must 
avoid the flamboyant and the noisy, in order that 
the soul of the play may shine through unob- 
scured by a too-compelling "bit" on the actor's 
part. 

The star system will have no place in art thea- 
tre organization. In any production which has 
a purpose more serious than playing up a darling 
of the managers and the public, it is necessary 
that a balance of parts be maintained, that the 
108 



Acting and Actors 

emphasis be put not on one figure, with mere 
fillers to complete the picture, but on the en- 
semble. 

The implication of the star system is, moreover, 
that it is the acting, and not the play as produced, 
that counts most. At least the system has so 
worked out in America, where the commercial 
exploitation of stars has had its most deplorable 
effects on playwriting. But a somewhat para- 
doxical result is noticeable: while the system be- 
gan by exalting the art of acting at the expense 
of the other arts of the theatre, it ended by de- 
stroying that art with the others. The big fel- 
lows among the actors, through being raised above 
the other artists of the playhouse, lost their per- 
spective and failed to preserve the true relation- 
ship between the contributive arts, and so failed 
to grow bigger. And the little fellows tried to 
imitate the big fellows, and so fell into a mess of 
trickery, instead of developing their own native 
talents on a firm foundation. The temptation 
to create stars, moreover, was so great that cer- 
tain managers began to push up actors who, 
through prettiness or some other personal charm, 
were likely to catch the public eye, but who were 
lacking in the thorough training and depth of 
feeling necessary to make them truly great. A 
false standard was thus created, which has re- 

109 



The Art Theatre 

suited in personality becoming the curse of mod- 
ern acting. 

This fallacy which lifts personality above pow- 
ers of impersonation must be combated by the 
art theatres. It is true that the actor usually 
lends additional colour to his role through per- 
sonal distinction, through beauty, or strength or 
grace of manner. But it is nevertheless true 
that he must subordinate his own individuality 
to that of the character played. If he happens 
to possess the charm of a John Drew he should 
not substitute the charming John Drew for the 
character the playwright intended, for that char- 
acter was probably meant to be charming in a 
different way; and he should not order plays 
specially designed to display his charm. 

It is, indeed, the duty of the actor to sink his 
own personality, his feelings, the little personal 
ways that endear him to his friends, even his 
attractive appearance, in an illusion of some 
one else. He must forget himself entirely. In 
so saying, I do not mean that he should substi- 
tute emotional for intellectual control, for I be- 
lieve firmly that the best acting arrives by de- 
sign and is absolutely controlled by the intel- 
ligence. But he must forget his individuality, he 
must renounce personal ambition in ambition for 
the whole play, he must assume the disinterested- 
110 



Acting and Actors 

ness which marks the great creative figure in any 
art. 

But more than this, he must in the art theatre 
submit to direction. If his conception of a part 
differs from that of the director (as seldom will 
happen if he has in mind the higher ideal of the 
play's success), he must be obedient to the lat- 
ter's decision. For we have seen that true art- 
theatre production is premised on a collective 
ideal, and on complete control by the guiding 
genius of an artist-director. This submission to 
authority does not mean surrender of the player's 
interpretative function; it means only that he 
must be concerned with the interpretation of the 
play first, and with his individual work after 
that. He may be just as great an artist under 
the director's guidance; indeed, he is likely to 
appear greater because he will be in perfect 
harmony with his surroundings. He is usually 
as free to interpret creatively as he is under the 
go-as-you-please system now in vogue in the 
American theatre. He merely promises that he 
will keep his work within such limits that it will 
not upset the other elements of the production 
or clash with the work of the other actors. And 
these limits are set by an artist instead of a busi- 
nessman or a businessman's stage-manager. 
The actor is left free to think out the character- 

111 



The Art Theatre 

ization, and there is no limit to the subtlety or 
intensity which he may display in its playing, so 
long as he does not arrogate to himself func- 
tions that properly belong elsewhere. The scope 
for individual technique is as great as before, but 
within the limits of harmony with his fellows. 

IV 

In European countries it is possible to find 
actors with such thorough training in speaking 
and with such grace of bearing that the develop- 
ment of an art theatre company may be a matter 
of months rather than years. Even in England, 
where the actor-manager system has interfered 
with the development of companies devoted to 
the ideal of ensemble acting, the standard of 
speech is gratefully high, and infinitely better 
than that prevailing on the American stage. But 
on this side of the Atlantic the question of pro- 
curing a satisfactory company for a professional 
art theatre is exceedingly puzzling. 

It is probable, of course, that we shall not have 
for several years an art theatre of high profes- 
sional standing: that is, we shall not have play- 
houses and companies that will bear the relation- 
ship to our business theatres which the Deutsches 
Theater and the Munich Art Theatre, for in- 
stance, bear to the commercial theatres of Ger- 
112 



Acting and Actors 

many. But if the other factors necessary to the 
establishment of such a theatre in an American 
city should become immediately available, where 
should we turn for the actors? By paying an 
exorbitant price for the very best people in the 
commercial theatre, it might be possible to form 
one or even two satisfying American com- 
panies — but the price would probably be so high 
that immediate bankruptcy would result. Ex- 
cept for this high-priced, very small minority, 
there would be practically no native actors equal 
to the demands of such an institution. The aver- 
age American player not only lacks the required 
artistic training and cultural background, but 
would have absolutely no sympathetic under- 
standing of the ideals and aims of an art the- 
atre. 

The likely alternative, in case of an early es- 
tablishment of art theatres, would be the selec- 
tion of a company of British actors. Moderately 
talented English players, with real distinction of 
voice and bearing, could be employed for moder- 
ate prices. 1 And since, unlike our American 
product, they would probably be educated ladies 
and gentlemen, they could within a season or two 

1 For many years Winthrop Ames, who understands the qualities 
of good acting better than any other commercial manager, has 
been importing English actors for his productions. 

113 



The Art Theatre 

be trained to the peculiar requirements of the art- 
theatre play. 



The full-fledged professional art theatre, how- 
ever, is not likely to materialize immediately. It 
is much more probable that each city will have 
its preliminary experiment in the direction of 
such an institution. The first step is that which 
many cities are taking now — San Francisco, 
Denver, Rochester, St. Louis, are examples — the 
establishment of little theatres, amateur in acting 
and stage setting, under directors who are either 
amateurs or professionals of the old school. In 
the result attained these are not often notably bet- 
ter than the old-time aimless social-dramatic club. 
But usually they have seen some glimmering of 
the synthetic ideal; and in choice of plays and 
in stagecraft they are usually progressive. The 
second step is that which has been accomplished 
at Chicago and at Detroit, and by the Washing- 
ton Square Players in New York: a lifting of 
the experimental ideal to a definite search for an 
art-theatre type of play and technique of produc- 
tion. These theatres have been stabilized to a 
certain extent, and there has been a definite and 
intelligent effort to professionalize them while 
retaining the best of the valuable amateur ideals. 
114 



Acting and Actors 

After such theatres we may expect to see various 
stages in the professionalizing process, until we 
ultimately arrive at the ideal of the European art 
theatre. 

The most important question at the present 
stage, the question facing every little theatre that 
looks forward to an achievement such as that at 
Chicago or Detroit, is this : is it better to use ama- 
teur or professional actors? The Washington 
Square Players have chosen to call themselves 
professionals, and they have gathered into their 
company many players who have had experience 
on the commercial stage. The results do not 
argue eloquently for the system: the acting has 
been a notably weak link in the Washington 
Square achievement — it has had neither the fresh- 
ness of good amateur work nor the ease and fin- 
ish of the best professional playing. The Port- 
manteau Players, who have tried to attain certain 
of the art-theatre ideals with a group of young 
players chosen from the commercial theatre, have 
been equally unsuccessful in attaining ensemble 
acting in perfect harmony with the spirit of the 
play. 

The argument for the other side I wish to take 
from Sam Hume, who has had experience in pro- 
duction under both systems. At the Arts and 
Crafts Theatre he has had only amateurs in his 

115 



The Art Theatre 

company, with results that compare favourably 
with the work of the Washington Square Play- 
ers and the Portmanteau Players. Certainly the 
acting has been no more ragged in general, and 
in the directions of speaking poetic lines music- 
ally and creating group-harmony it has been 
superior. Hume's summary of the situation runs 
like this : At the present stage of the art theatre 
movement we are limited, by the small audiences 
so far developed for the best forms of drama, 
and by certain exterior circumstances, to a small 
expenditure each year. If a little theatre pays 
actors' salaries it cannot do justice to the other 
demands of art theatre production. The class 
of actor it can afford to pay, moreover, is not 
able to do as good work as the best type of ama- 
teur. It is unwise to pay a few "leading" actors 
and then fill in with amateurs, because one 
thereby creates an undemocratic atmosphere and 
a basis for petty jealousies and disputes. It is 
better, therefore, to use only amateurs, at least 
until such time as the theatre can afford the very 
best professionals. A paid company, moreover, 
is necessarily small, and one can choose from a 
much wider field when using amateurs. 

The advantages of amateur companies have 
been brought out clearly during Hume's season 
at the Arts and Crafts Theatre. In the first 
116 




SAM HUME AS ABRAHAM AND 
FRANCES LOUGHTON AS ISAAC 



Acting and Actors 

place they submit more willingly to direction; 
they have not the professional actor's obsession 
that the old method is right, and they conform to 
the ensemble method more easily. They are 
free, moreover, from those artificialities and 
tricks which mark the commercial theatre player, 
and which the art theatre director must cure be- 
fore starting serious work. They are working 
for love of the theatre, and not for pay ; and their 
acting is therefore less likely to be perfunctory. 
They are as a class far better educated and bet- 
ter bred than the usual actor, and so they more 
easily grasp the essential idea of art theatre pro- 
duction. It is necessary to add that in most ama- 
teur companies there is a sprinkling of players 
with more or less professional experience. At 
Detroit certain ones had been with travelling and 
stock companies, others had played bits here and 
there, and many, of course, had been leaders in 
amateur dramatic clubs. In other words, the av- 
erage player in such a company as that at the Arts 
and Crafts Theatre does not come to the director 
as raw material. If he needs an actor with the 
professional trick, to "carry" a scene, one is at 
hand; and if he wants the sincerity, the fresh 
charm and the intelligence of amateurs with a 
stage sense, he is likely to be over-supplied. In 
every American city there is this two-fold source: 

117 



The Art Theatre 

first, a group of intelligent, if untrained, amateurs 
who at least have a feeling for stage work; and 
second, a group of men and women with pro- 
fessional experience, who have left the stage to 
marry and settle down, or because they found 
life in the commercial theatre uncongenial. 

Perhaps the weightiest argument against the use 
of amateur players is in the lack of directors who 
combine a knowledge of the art of acting with 
an understanding of the newer ideals of stag- 
ing. For unless the actors are trained by some 
one with ability as an artist and with long experi- 
ence of the stage, they either remain patently un- 
trained or else become poor manipulators of the 
professional's bag of tricks. The other serious 
argument against unpaid amateur players is that 
they cannot be depended upon for continuous 
work throughout the season. Family, business 
and social obligations may call them from the 
theatre at critical moments. There is also a rea- 
sonable limit to the number of performances they 
can be asked to give in any one month, thus 
limiting the theatre to peripatetic productions. 
By casting plays with one group the first month 
and utilizing a different group the second, and 
alternating as necessary, a regular schedule of 
say one week's productions each month can be 
counted on. But the fact remains that it will be 
118 



Acting and Actors 

impossible to take the final step toward the es- 
tablishment of an art theatre playing a continu- 
ous season without adopting a system under 
which actors are paid. On the other hand it is 
well to remember that practically all the progres- 
sive theatres in Europe started with scattered per- 
formances. 

Just here it is necessary to enquire what dis- 
tinguishes amateur actors from professionals. 
The original connotation of the word " amateur," 
of one who loves his work, must not be overlooked. 
The true amateur of the theatre is the man or 
woman who acts for love of the art, and not 
primarily as a means of support. There can be 
no hard and fast line drawn, with the amateurs 
grouped on one side because they do not receive 
pay, and the professionals on the other because 
they are financially reimbursed for their appear- 
ances. It is rather a matter of the spirit in which 
one approaches the work. To my mind the Chi- 
cago Little Theatre company is distinctly amateur 
— I say so in praise and not in disparagement. 
Despite the fact that the players receive a small 
wage, they are held together primarily by a pas- 
sion for the art of the theatre. There is no temp- 
tation for them to become mere time-servers, for 
them to stoop to the commercial-professional's 
vice of learning the tricks that will bring the 

119 



The Art Theatre 

most money. They have passed the early stages 
of amateurism, so that their work for a cause is 
both recognized and stabilized by the payment 
of a small monetary return; they are on the road 
to the best sort of professionalism, in which serv- 
ice to art is rewarded by a reasonable means to 
living. But they remain amateurs in spirit. 

In paying his players Maurice Browne has 
avoided, as no other little theatre director has, the 
disadvantages implied in Sam Hume's theory that 
a progressive theatre can obtain better results 
with the best unpaid amateurs than with the sort 
of professional it can afford to employ. Browne 
has accomplished this because, when he was able 
to pay, he did not turn to the professional market, 
but continued with his amateurs. While he has 
not built up a company that is ideal according to 
art theatre standards, he has made such progress 
in attaining co-ordination and unity of mood in 
acting that his opinion concerning amateurs is 
worth quoting. Four years ago he wrote: 
"Professional actors and actresses, all of them 
incidentally once amateurs themselves, are care- 
fully trained in certain stage-conventions, which 
after a time become second nature to them; these 
conventions are different from the new stage con- 
ventions which the leaders of the Art Theatre 
movement are inventing, and therefore those 
120 



Acting and Actors 

trained in them are not directly helpful to such 
leaders, just as a man trained in classics is not 
directly helpful to a bridge builder; their uses 
are different. And, just as a bridge builder 
would sooner have for pupil a boy without any 
training than a boy with a training alien to his 
own, so the director of an Art Theatre prefers to 
have players without any training (i.e., amateurs) 
than players trained in an alien convention. 
Moreover, the professional, so-called, in any walk 
of life, usually works primarily for money, while 
the amateur, so-called, that is to say the volunteer, 
works primarily for love of the work." 

It is well to remind ourselves just here that 
both the theatre of the Irish Players and the Mos- 
cow Art Theatre had their beginnings in amateur 
organizations. It seems likely that our American 
art theatres will grow from the same foundation 
— that Hume and Browne with their amateur 
players will rear institutions more lasting and 
more important than those initiated by such well- 
meaning reformers as the founders of the New 
Theatre in New York. It is probable, further, 
that such an early abandonment of the amateur 
basis as that effected by the Washington Square 
Players will prove exceedingly unwise. It neces- 
sarily entails surrender to many stultifying con- 
ventions of the commercial theatre. The ama- 

121 



The Art Theatre 

teur spirit, love of the art, will be the foundation 
rock of the new edifice; and players steeped in 
a tradition alien to that spirit can have little part 
in the building. As the typical art theatre com- 
pany develops its own sort of professionalism, 
there will be a certain accretion of players from 
commercial ranks — from that small minority 
who are dissatisfied with the actor's low estate 
under the business system. But the spirit of the 
organization will take rise in the qualities and 
perceptions of those of its members who preserve 
the amateur feeling. 

VI 

Of the position of the actor under the ultimate 
art theatre I shall have something to say in a 
later chapter. But here I wish to point out two 
facts: the degradation from the position of artist 
to the position of a shopkeeper with a line of 
shop-worn goods to sell has resulted from an or- 
ganization under which the actor was relieved of 
responsibility and deprived of direct interest in 
his company's doings; and second, the loss of 
the best traditions of his art was due to the long- 
run and circuit systems, under which the player 
was denied opportunity to play varied roles, and 
the leisure and incentive necessary to make him a 
student in the broader sense. These faults will 
122 



Acting and Actors 

be corrected in the art theatre, where the actor 
will again become a co-operative partner, if not 
in ownership, at least in the artistic administra- 
tion of the theatre. He will be employed under 
annual contract, with certain pension rights and 
proprietary interests accruing with added years 
of service. The theatre will be his in a very 
true sense, and it will secure to him those advan- 
tages of permanency, of breadth of opportunity, 
and of balance of work and recreation, which 
are necessary to his finest development. 



123 



CHAPTER VI 

THE QUESTION OF PLAYS 

THE typical art theatre play differs sig- 
nally from the typical play of the com- 
mercial theatre. The distinction is the 
same, perhaps, as that which divides literature 
from journalism. Broadway is concerned with 
a journalistic product — direct, obviously appeal- 
ing, sensational, ephemeral. The art theatres are, 
or will be, devoted primarily to something subtler 
and more specialized in its appeal. To define 
this higher type of drama would be to define art — 
which generations of scholars have failed to do 
clearly and simply. It has to do, of course, with 
beauty, truth, seriousness. Beyond that I must 
leave each reader free to form his own exact 
boundaries between the drama of the art theatre 
and the merely amusing or shocking or topical 
play. 

I 

Just as the newspapers and cheap magazines 
occasionally publish poems or stories or essays 
characterized by real literary value, so the busi- 
124 



The Question of Plays 

ness theatres occasionally mount plays which be- 
long in the art-theatre group. Perhaps it is true 
that the really great play, beautifully staged, will 
interest both audiences. But as a rule Broad- 
way plays run true to the journalistic type. And 
as a rule the advanced art theatres tend to a type 
of production that appeals to a comparative few 
— because we are not yet a cultured nation. The 
question then arises: shall the American embryo 
art theatres immediately set up an advanced ideal 
of play which will cut them off from the patron- 
age of any but a very small audience? Or shall 
they compromise by mixing the journalistic pro- 
duct with occasional attempts at the deeply ar- 
tistic? Or shall they adopt a standard of play 
that finds its level where the two sorts meet — 
never too "advanced" and never too clearly vul- 
gar? In short, where, between the art ideal and 
the amusement ideal, shall the average little 
theatre that aspires to be an art theatre set its 
standard ? 

There are those who refuse to compromise. 
But for most of us who have been in the fight it 
has become clear that, if we would exist at all, if 
we object to going out of existence until such time 
as an inspired millionaire is willing to stake us 
to pursue the higher ideal, audience or no audi- 
ence, we must recognize that there are two goals : 

125 



The Art Theatre 

one the immediate establishment of theatres that 
are progressive enough in choice of plays and 
methods of staging to be clearly steps beyond 
the commercial average and toward a higher 
ideal ; and the other an ultimate ideal of absolute 
art, with no concession to popular demand. 

II 

Sam Hume, in explaining the success of the 
first season at the Arts and Crafts Theatre, lays 
great stress on the fact that he fitted the series of 
plays to the demands of the community. His 
point of view is interesting, particularly in light 
of several failures that have occurred in the little 
theatre world during the season. "We were de- 
pendent," he says, "on a certain group of theatre- 
goers for our existence. We were careful, there- 
fore, not to hit over the heads of that group. It 
happened to be an unusually intelligent class, but 
it was not interested in the esoteric and precious 
material which certain little theatres affect. We 
were able to choose dignified, worth-while plays, 
and we tried to produce them according to the 
best ideals of staging. But we avoided plays of 
very limited appeal. We made good because we 
did not keep too far ahead of our audiences, be- 
cause we did not try unduly to force the move- 
ment for better art in the theatre." 
126 



The Question of Plays 

An analysis of the season's bills at the Arts 
and Crafts Theatre shows that only six of the 
nineteen plays produced were at all unusual or 
specialized in appeal. One of these appeared 
on each of the six programs of the season — which 
indicates that when Hume wished to try some- 
thing a little "advanced" on his audiences, he 
sandwiched it between things of more obvious 
appeal. While trying to educate his community 
to a taste for something different from the cur- 
rent fare of the commercial theatre, he stayed 
close enough to that in general so that the audi- 
ences would not be driven away by the strange- 
ness of his offerings. 

The one long play presented during the season, 
and the production subjected to the most serious 
criticism from both within and without the or- 
ganization, was "The Chinese Lantern," by Law- 
rence Housman. This poetic work proved not 
to have enough literary appeal to compensate for 
the lack of action. Lord Dunsany's "The Tents 
of the Arabs," on the other hand, with the beauty 
of the lines fully brought out through Hume's 
careful training of the actors, proved that poetry 
can redeem a play lacking in gripping action and 
appealing story. But even here a cleavage in the 
audience was immediately apparent. Most of 
the spectators, be it said in praise, were delighted 

127 



The Art Theatre 

with the beauty of the play; but the others, miss- 
ing the appeal of obvious sentiment, emotion and 
excitement, and untrained in appreciation of 
spoken poetry, found the production dull. 

The theatre's nearest approach to the esoteric 
came in the productions of Maeterlinck's "The In- 
truder" and Dunsany's "The Glittering Gate." 
In the former Hume succeeded, with the aid of 
an admirable cast, in attaining and sustaining 
the mood of unnatural calm and brooding mys- 
tery which is the very spirit of the play; and in 
the other he achieved the necessary tension and 
a sense of detachment from the world. 

These two plays created the widest diversity of 
feeling and opinion, some adjudging them the 
high points of the season, and others finding 
them tedious and senseless. But there can be no 
doubt that in presenting them the theatre was 
registering most clearly its advance over the aver- 
age: it was providing, for those who cared, a 
type of production never seen in the commercial 
theatres; and it was presenting to the others a 
sort of play which, even under protest, was likely 
to aid ultimately in broadening their field of ap- 
preciation. 

The two greatest novelties of the series were 
the old English religious play "Abraham and 
Isaac," and "The Romance of the Rose," a ro- 
128 



The Question of Plays 

mantic pantomime devised by Sam Hume, with 
music by Timothy M. Spelman 2nd. 

For the rest, the season might have been 
planned almost entirely in reference to an ideal of 
entertainment untroubled by a desire for art. 
The only classic revived was a sure-fire farce 
of Moliere, "A Doctor in Spite of Himself," and 
the other revival, "The Revesby Sword Play," 
was hardly more than a divertisement in folk 
dancing. The poetic trend was continued, in a 
way, in Kenneth Sawyer Goodman's two slight 
fantasies, "The Wonder Hat" and "Ephraim and 
the Winged Bear." Of the plays tending toward 
serious realism only Susan Glaspell's "Trifles" 
rose above the ordinary, both "The Bank Ac- 
count" and "The Last Man In" being effective 
examples of "the play with a punch," without 
notable literary value or serious character-study. 
Of plays of lighter type the choice ranged from 
such excellent artificial farce-comedy as Dun- 
sany's "The Lost Silk Hat" and Hankin's "The 
Constant Lovers," through the more satirical 
"Suppressed Desires," to such pleasant foolish- 
ness as "Helena's Husband." 

As a whole it is not a list that would do credit 
to a mature art theatre. Plays of a passing vogue 
or distinctly light in appeal are in the majority. 
On the other hand, it is a list that bespeaks a 

129 



The Art Theatre 

clear advance beyond the standards of the com- 
mercial theatre. It is a working illustration of 
Hume's theory: keep ahead of business stand- 
ards, but never go so far into untried fields or 
toward the art of particularized appeal, that the 
audiences of the moment will be antagonized. 

in 

Considered by no other standard than the type 
of play produced, the Chicago Little Theatre is 
incomparably the closest American approach to 
an art theatre. Its productions have come meas- 
urably near the art that appeals to a highly 
cultivated audience, to the sort of audience that 
already exists in large numbers in certain parts of 
Europe, but which has yet to be developed in 
most American cities. An analysis of its list of 
plays shows that Maurice Browne has preferred 
to strike direct to the ultimate goal as he has seen 
it. He refused to compromise for the sake of 
conciliating audiences or critics. 

The list of productions at Chicago is far more 
impressive than that of the Arts and Crafts 
Theatre. In the five seasons since its founding 
the proportion of poetic and fantastic plays has 
not been considerably greater than at Detroit. 
But the selection has been more revolutionary, 
including such names as Euripides (in Gilbert 
130 



The Question of Plays 

Murray's remarkable translations), Yeats, and 
Synge; and original productions of plays by 
American authors have been made with the par- 
ticular object of finding a typical art-theatre type 
of play. In the non-poetic or less poetic groups, 
moreover, the Chicago Little Theatre list tends 
far more to the serious, is freer from mere "fill- 
ers" than is the Detroit list. Ibsen, Shaw, 
Schnitzler, Hankin, Strindberg, Gibson, Wilde — 
these are names which, although they tend too 
much to unrelieved realism to suit some of us, 
nevertheless bespeak a preoccupation with what 
is too dignified, too thoughtful and too true to 
form part of the average theatre's repertory. 

It would be idle to claim that devotion to a 
theory does not beget certain advantages artisti- 
cally. One must admire any artist who sets up 
an ideal, and then, although realizing that it is 
far beyond the public, pursues it uncompromis- 
ingly, in the face of public apathy, and in spite 
of criticism both fair and unfair. And there are 
definite advantages to the particular theatre and 
to the art theatre movement in general. Thus 
the Chicago Little Theatre will always be known 
as a pioneer in the search for a characteristic art- 
theatre technique. It aided the whole movement 
through its pioneering activities and it gained a 
lasting distinction thereby. 

131 



The Art Theatre 

But there are disadvantages, too, and these 
are such that they make one wonder whether the 
shortest route to the ideal is not through a more 
gradual progress — whether Hume is not right in 
the assertion that we must speak at first in a lan- 
guage which sizable audiences can understand, 
and then develop the community with the theatre 
as the artistic standards are raised. The Chi- 
cago Little Theatre has gained a reputation for 
a greatly restricted appeal; it is known as a 
theatre for a specialized audience, if not for a 
cult, and this has militated against its wider ac- 
tivity as a community venture; and it would 
doubtless tend to prevent Maurice Browne from 
obtaining the directorship of a municipal theatre 
if the Chicago millionaires or voters were ready to 
build one — although he would be the logical man, 
if the theatre were designed to be an art institu- 
tion. Thus does unbending devotion to an ideal 
tend to estrange an artist or an institution from 
the public. 

But there is a more serious practical lesson to 
be learned from the Chicago Little Theatre's five 
years' experience. It is that typical art-theatre 
plays of the advanced type are likely to lead to 
financial ruin. There has been an unwholesome 
air of financial insecurity about the Chicago 
project, which is to be laid partially to the failure 
132 



The Question of Plays 

to choose plays which, while not stooping to com- 
mercial standards, would at least tend to con- 
ciliate the spectators. To put it rawly, the Chi- 
cago Little Theatre has been too artistic to suc- 
ceed financially at our present stage of culture. 

IV 

My own opinion is that neither one of these 
theatres has taken the wisest course. While I 
have no faith in the usual interpretation of the 
adage that "the play must please the public," I 
do believe that the whole art of the theatre is to 
a certain extent conditioned on public acceptance. 
But I believe that it is the duty of the art theatre 
to keep ahead of its audiences. To please any 
audience, even the most intelligent, all the time, 
would be narrowing and deadening. And to 
please continuously even the best audiences to 
be gathered in the average American city today 
would mean artistic suicide. It seems to me that 
the standard at the Arts and Crafts Theatre dur- 
ing its first season was set too close to what would 
please the average. The Chicago list, on the 
other hand, gratifying as it must be to the for- 
ward-looking artist and to the man who sees 
progress in experiment, shows too ruthless a dis- 
regard for public — even intelligent — preferences. 
It should be possible to make the majority of pro- 

133 



The Art Theatre 

ductions touch the standard set by the best things 
done at the Arts and Crafts Theatre — there were 
some that pleased the audiences and bore the un- 
mistakable marks of serious art ; and beyond that 
majority there should be regular excursions into 
those regions in which we hope ultimately to make 
our audiences at home, but which are now caviare 
to the general. I insist the more strongly on the 
necessity of keeping somewhat in advance of the 
audience, with just enough concession to hold the 
most intelligent audience, because this slight com- 
promise has not been tried. Always there has 
been refusal to recede at all from the high-art 
plane, or else there has been too decided a lower- 
ing of standards. 



When one turns away from consideration of 
the practical ideal of the existing progressive 
theatres to the question of the types of play to be 
seen in the ultimate mature art theatre, one finds 
even more puzzling difficulties. We have never 
had repertory art theatres, nor any sort of insti- 
tutions faintly suggesting the dignified subven- 
tioned theatres of France and Germany, and we 
must learn entirely by experience just what plays 
are available. 

The one outstanding fact about such a theatre, 
134 



The Question of Plays 

however, is that it must be catholic in its choice 
of drama. The stereotyped formulas adopted by 
Broadway managers in judging plays have been 
one of the curses of the commercial system. And 
one recollects that even the Comedie Francaise 
has been too narrowly national to serve the best 
interests of French dramatic art. Variety is 
absolutely necessary to make the activity of an 
art theatre vital in its reactions on the community 
and on native art. A repertory should without 
doubt include classic and modern drama, the 
work of both foreign and native dramatists, and 
both poetic and realistic plays. 

As to the classics, one must remember that in 
the last decade or two they have practically never 
been adequately presented in America. They 
have been produced occasionally as cut to fit a 
Broadway star, and smothered with spectacular 
Broadway scenery; and they have been revived 
more intelligently, but amateurishly and archaeo- 
logically, at the colleges. But the classics in their 
best form have been practically unknown in this 
country. To say that the public will not patron- 
ize them is the merest speculation. The public 
has had no chance to judge. Under art-theatre 
treatment, with the poetry brought out, and with 
dramatic story, acting and setting properly inter- 
related, they can be made to live again for modern 

135 



The Art Theatre 

audiences. Margaret Anglin's company and the 
Chicago Little Theatre have made a great ad- 
vance in their productions of the Greek trage- 
dies: they have at least shown that when artists 
take up the plays their tragic splendour and 
trenchant emotion will register with American 
audiences as with those of ancient Athens. And 
when William Poel took one of the least interest- 
ing of Elizabethan comedies, and made it appeal 
to American audiences merely by his manner of 
production — which he claimed was the Eliza- 
bethan manner — he convinced many progressives 
that if the public does not like classics, it is the 
method of staging that is at fault. 

Shakespeare and the other Elizabethan drama- 
tists are as much the classics of the American 
theatre as Moliere, Corneille and Racine are of 
the French. And so the American art theatre 
will most often turn to Shakespeare and his con- 
temporaries for their revivals. But the best 
things from the French, German, Spanish and 
other languages will find place also, if we are 
wise. And if the audiences are not enthusiastic 
at first, they will be increasingly so, later. In 
drama, as in music, one's taste improves with ex- 
perience of the best. Appreciation follows op- 
portunity. 

Of modern plays it is difficult to say that any 
136 



The Question of Plays 

type beyond melodrama and farce should be ex- 
cluded. The sort of farce that brings only idle 
laughter, without any element of satire or any 
impulse to thoughtful amusement, is beyond the 
bounds of art; and so is sheer melodrama. One 
might add that the play of pure propaganda 
would also be out of place in the art theatre. 
But who is to say where the emotionally effective 
and artistically legitimate drama of thought is to 
be divided from the propaganda play? And who 
is to mark the boundary between mere naturalism 
and inspired realism? 

Some people think that it is possible to divide 
drama into two classes, the play of beauty and 
the play of ideas; and they would have the art 
theatre concerned only with the play of beauty. 
They would put the whole realistic school, in- 
cluding Ibsen, Shaw, Galsworthy, Schnitzler, and 
many another, outside the pale. The question 
is not so easy of solution. 

There is no doubt that a general distinction can 
be made between a substantially poetic group of 
dramatists and a typically realistic group; the 
one relies chiefly on imaginative and literary ap- 
peal, while the other, through its intensive obser- 
vation of life, brings a deep emotional reaction 
coupled with a stimulus to thought. And there 
can be no doubt that to keep a wholesome balance 

137 



The Art Theatre 

we must have a great deal more of poetic drama 
than the business theatre has offered. American 
theatre-goers have been starved for imaginative 
drama for years. But we are already swinging 
back to the poetic. (I saw seven Dunsany plays 
produced last winter.) This type of play, more- 
over, lends itself better to art-theatre technique 
than any other. Yeats, Synge, Dunsany, Mae- 
terlinck, Hauptmann, D'Annunzio — these are 
names which are likely to have large place in art 
theatre repertories, certainly infinitely larger 
than any Broadway manager would grant pos- 
sible. Poetry is, indeed, coming to its own on the 
stage. 

On the other hand, no art theatre could today 
afford to cut itself off from all that the realistic 
movement has brought to the theatre. Even 
though I believe that the highest forms of art come 
from the regions of the imaginative, the poetic and 
the sensuously beautiful, I for one am not ready 
to say that the realistic dramatists are to be barred 
by organizations actuated solely by the desire for 
better theatre art. The aesthetic senses lie so 
close to the emotions and the intellect that we are 
likely to re-act to an idea-play of Ibsen or Gals- 
worthy much as we re-act to Greek tragedy. And 
for most of us ideas are among the most interest- 
ing and important things in life. So I would 
138 



The Question of Plays 

open the art theatre even to the intellectual drama 
of Shaw and Barker; 1 and after that would come 
the more emotional type, where the idea is more 
leavened with dramatic story — the drama, for in- 
stance, of Galsworthy, of Tolstoy, and of Brieux 
when he is least pathological and most himself. 

VI 

One other important consideration must enter 
into the choice of plays : the proportion of native 
to foreign works. Just as in the matter of clas- 
sics, the list should be open to the widest possible 
selection from the contemporary drama of other 
countries. The best should be taken from Euro- 
pean dramatists, not only because for some years 
to come their best is likely to be better than our 
best, but also because we need to study their 
drama for an understanding of those universal 
principles which will some day underlie our own. 
Just here it is well to remind ourselves that the 
most intensely national drama of modern times, 
the Irish, found its finest expression in the works 
of two men of international culture and training. 

1 Four years ago I wrote that "Getting Married" was distinctly a 
play for reading and not for the stage, and that Barker's "The 
Madras House" was undramatic. My final conversion came last 
winter when I saw in one week the productions of "Getting 
Married" and Bahr's "The Master." Now I am so far won over 
that I want to see "The Madras House" staged. 

139 



The Art Theatre 

Yeats began his dramatic career in London, and 
knew well both the English and the French the- 
atres before he became interested in the project at 
Dublin; and Synge had spent many years on the 
Continent previous to his connection with the 
Irish National Theatre. An understanding in- 
ternationalism is the soundest basis for an inspir- 
ing nationalism, in art as in politics. 

But while opening our theatres so freely to 
foreign artists, we must remember that the de- 
velopment of American drama depends largely 
upon the encouragement offered native play- 
wrights. We have seen how the commercializa- 
tion of the playhouse deprived the aspiring play- 
wright of all laboratory facilities. While we 
cannot afford to lower art-theatre standards to 
those of the new laboratory theatres, such as that 
of the Provincetown Players, we must recognize 
that every schedule of productions should make 
room for a certain number of native pieces. The 
knowledge that such theatres await plays of merit 
will spur dramatists to do a serious sort of work, 
which would never be called forth by the demands 
of the business playhouse. The Abbey Theatre 
so inspired a generation of Irish writers that an 
entire new dramatic literature resulted. 

It is not probable that we shall have a national 
drama in the Irish sense, or even in the French 
140 



The Question of Plays 

sense. As a federated group-nation, without a 
single art capital — New York is hardly more than 
a centre of business art — we cannot expect to 
have the intense national feeling which would 
bring forth a deeply characteristic body of drama. 
It is more likely that we shall have a sectional 
drama, of New England, of the Middle West, of 
the Far West, and this collectively may have a 
definite note which can be recognized as Ameri- 
can. If so, it is even more imperative that the 
sectional art theatres provide the native play- 
wright with facilities for staging really meritori- 
ous work. 

The Arts and Crafts Theatre in its first season 
staged only one play by a Michigan author, and 
only eight of its nineteen plays were American. 
The record shows too little interest in the develop- 
ment of a local or national drama. The Chi- 
cago Little Theatre likewise has been concerned 
a little too exclusively with foreign plays. The 
average maintained by the Washington Square 
Players has been much better. In the preface to 
"Washington Square Plays" Edward Goodman 
writes: "So far [1916] we have produced 
thirty-two plays, of one-act and greater length, 
and of these twenty have been American. The 
emphasis of our interest has been on the Ameri- 
can playwright." 

141 



The Art Theatre 

I realize fully that the really good drama by 
an American is rare; and that in the field of the 
one-act play especially there are many more satis- 
fying examples to be drawn from English and 
foreign repertories. But I want just a little prej- 
udice for the native playwright at this stage of 
development, a tendency to put his fairly good 
play on the boards in preference to a foreign 
work that is just a little better. Through his 
experience of the stage this time he is likely to 
equal his European rival next time. 

I believe that the development of a large body 
of important American drama is only a matter 
of time. Already we have material not unworthy 
of an art theatre's repertory. One might start 
the list with a few works which no one would 
challenge, such as "The Yellow Jacket" and "The 
Poor Little Rich Girl." Then there are many 
plays which, while doubtless subject to minority 
objection, are well worthy of revival- — poetic 
works like Percy MacKaye's "The Scarecrow" 
and Mrs. Marks' "The Piper," and more realistic 
plays like Charles Kenyon's "Kindling" and 
Augustus Thomas' "As a Man Thinks." Of 
course one must add "The Great Divide," and 
if sheer realism is not debarred, there is "The 
Easiest Way." But I have more faith in the im- 
portance of dramas to be written by such outsid- 
142 



The Question of Plays 

ers as Susan Glaspell, Theodore Dreiser and 
Cloyd Head. 

VII 

The American art theatre will, of course, be a 
repertory theatre. It will doubtless modify the 
repertory plan of such institutions as the Comedie 
Franchise, retaining a certain latitude in the 
length of run of a successful new play. Its 
economic position may be such that it will have 
to keep an occasional success on the boards for 
several weeks. But it should never offer less 
than a certain scheduled number of plays in a 
season; and it must gradually build up a group 
of plays for revival, covering classic and modern. 
Only thus can it fulfil its true function as an 
institution serving a community in relation to 
theatre art as the art gallery serves it in relation 
to painting and sculpture. Repertory organiza- 
tion brings its serious problems, particularly 
where there is competition with the commercial 
long-run system. But only through its advan- 
tages, its method of conserving the best plays out 
of the theatres of the past and present, can we 
hope to combat effectively the narrowing influence 
of the business theatre. 



143 



CHAPTER VII 

THE QUESTION OF STAGE SETTINGS 

BECAUSE the art-theatre ideal demands 
that every element that goes to make up a 
production shall contribute to the crea- 
tion of a single mood, it is necessary that the older 
methods of stage setting — which are still the 
methods of most commercial theatres — be dis- 
carded. The grossly unnatural, the literal, and 
the spectacular modes of scene-building must give 
way before a stagecraft which finds its foundation 
principles in the synthetic ideal: a stagecraft 
which is marked by the most typical character- 
istics of the new art of the theatre — suggestion, 
imaginative invention, atmospheric beauty, sub- 
ordination of specific interest to creation of mood. 
It happens that in the one direction of stage 
decoration the American progressive theatres 
have made more progress than in any other; 
they are already in possession of a fair under- 
standing of the principles of the new staging, and 
they have developed a considerable amount of 
144 



The Question of Stage Settings 

talent of art-theatre calibre. America has no 
stage artists of the measure of Craig or Appia, 
nor any whose lustre would not be dimmed beside 
half a dozen of the Germans and Russians; but 
six or eight may fairly be termed enlightened ex- 
ponents of art-theatre methods, and dependable 
craftsmen in the new field. 



The older style of stage setting was based on 
a literal transcription into paint, canvas and 
properties of certain facts set down in a play- 
wright's stage directions. If doors were called 
for, doors were cut in walls, but with little re- 
gard for scale or for proportion of wall space to 
openings; and windows, mantels and other ac- 
cessories were supplied as a builder might supply 
them without an architect's help. The result 
usually was architecturally and materially cor- 
rect. If the designer wished to add something by 
way of decoration it was entirely in the nature of 
ornament stuck on, In other words, the designer 
of stage settings never made his scene spiritually 
true to the inner mood of the play, but only ma- 
terially true to its practical demands; he seldom 
made it structurally decorative, but only built up 
something spectacular and decorative from his 
own standpoint, and not at all related to the spirit- 

145 



The Art Theatre 

ual content of the drama. The methods used, 
moreover, were absurdly artificial. Supposedly 
wooden walls quaked at the slightest touch, broad 
landscapes wrinkled in the breeze, ships cast gro- 
tesque shadows on the sky, furniture was even 
painted on the walls, and the woodwork had 
painted lights and shadows that never matched 
the surrounding real light and shade. These and 
similar crudities were accepted as necessary ac- 
companiments of the art of stage setting. It was 
not the artificiality of art — the conventionalized 
symbol taking the place of the real — but the ar- 
tificiality of incompetence, which an amiable 
public accepted because it could not help itself. 

The staging of a generation ago was so very 
bad that even some of the American managers 
revolted against it. David Belasco, with his 
passion for thoroughness, was particularly instru- 
mental in giving a certain substantial illusion to 
the box-set interior, and eliminating the most 
grossly artificial features from exteriors. But 
this revolt was solely in the direction of natural- 
ism. It did not start with the desire to bring the 
setting into closer harmony with the spirit of the 
play, but only with the object of making the scene 
more natural. It removed the worst absurdities 
of Nineteenth Century staging; but in its later 
elaboration it provided distractions quite as for- 
146 



The Question of Stage Settings 

eign to the substance of the drama. In the pur- 
suit of the natural, Belasco and others began to 
build scenes so finely imitative, so true to the 
surface appearances of life, that the audience 
forgot the play in wonder at the photographic 
perfection of the setting. 

The revolt of the artists, beginning with Craig 
and Appia, and coming down through the Ger- 
man theatres, and now reflected in America in 
the work of such artists as Robert Edmond Jones, 
Raymond Johnson and Sam Hume, was against 
both the artificiality of the older theatre and the 
naturalism of the Belasco group. The aim of 
the newly conceived stagecraft was to bring the 
setting into definite spiritual harmony with the 
play. Suggestion was substituted for imitation, 
creation of atmosphere was considered more im- 
portant than indication of a definite locality, and 
the appeal of the setting was subordinated to the 
synthetic appeal of the production as a whole, by 
simplification and conventionalization. Where 
visual beauty was the aim of the dramatist and 
artist-director, the setting became a thing of 
beauty predicated upon the mood of the play ; and 
its decorative quality grew out of skilful compo- 
sition of line and mass, subtle use of colour, and 
a system of lighting that tended more to artistic 
expressiveness than to mere naturalness. 

147 



The Art Theatre 

ii 

In order to differentiate art-theatre methods of 
stage setting from other phases of stage design, 
which are not less new but still inapplicable to the 
special problem presented by synthetic produc- 
tion, it is necessary to outline three tendencies of 
modern stagecraft: the improved pictorial, the 
plastic and the decorative. 

I wish to write of the pictorial phase first be- 
cause it can quickly be dismissed when one is 
concerned only with forces that will count in the 
art theatre. Certain Russian designers have de- 
veloped a wonderfully brilliant technique in 
painting scenery. They accept the old theatre 
convention which said that an exterior setting 
must be done in painted perspective on canvas. 
In other words, they still consider the stage scene 
a glorified easel picture. Some of their settings 
are among the richest and most interesting of the 
creations masquerading under the name of the 
new stagecraft. But they really have nothing to 
do with the most typical phases of the new move- 
ment. They mark merely the perfection of a 
process that will never give absolute satisfaction 
in the theatre. They are infinitely better than 
the settings in the same method which used to fill 
all our theatres, because they are painted by art- 
148 



The Question of Stage Settings 

ists instead of sign painters. But two points are 
to be noted about them: First, they employ 
painted perspective in the backgrounds, and this 
will never prove entirely satisfying on the stage; 
for no matter how cunningly the artist may work 
to hide all traces of the incongruity, there will al- 
ways be a disillusioning difference between the 
real perspective of the foreground and the painted 
perspective at the back — and audiences will be 
less and less tolerant of this absurdity as they be- 
come trained in appreciation of the plastic, per- 
spective-less method. And second, these artists 
are employing a purely representative method: 
instead of placing backgrounds and objects on the 
stage, or suggesting these things by concrete 
means, they attempt to represent them by the il- 
lustrator's method, which properly has no place 
in the theatre. One might quite as rationally 
paint objects into the background of a statue 
or sculptured frieze. The painter, indeed, has 
proven himself inadequate to the tasks of the 
theatre; and the designer for the stage of the fu- 
ture will need the training of architect, sculptor 
and interior decorator rather than that of the 
present-day painter — training in arrangement of 
line and mass, modelling of form, and harmony 
of flat colour-tones. 

For my part, I believe that within not so very 

149 



The Art Theatre 

many years the painted-perspective background 
will be as clearly ridiculous and out-of-date in a 
stage production as the soliloquy and aside are 
in modern playwriting. I know that ninety- 
nine out of every hundred of the so-called artists 
on Broadway would call me crazy if I repeated 
that statement to them. But I do not base the 
contention on mere theorizing — although I was 
convinced of the soundness of the theory of plas- 
tic setting several years ago. I have seen both 
sorts in large and small, and the plastic is so far 
superior by every measurement that its time is 
sure to come. In at least two of the most pro- 
gressive theatres in this country, the Arts and 
Crafts Theatre in Detroit and the Los Angeles 
Little Theatre, not a single painted-perspective 
scene was used during the season of 1916-17; 
and I doubt whether a painted drop has been 
shown in the Chicago Little Theatre in all the 
years of its existence. And these are only signs 
of a widespread development. Practically every 
member of the small group of deeply-thinking, 
far-seeing artist-workmen on the American stage 
has repudiated the painted-perspective theory and 
method. Certainly Raymond Johnson, Sam 
Hume, Norman-Bel Geddes and Robert Edmond 
Jones have — and that represents some of the 
soundest opinion on this side of the Atlantic. I 
150 



The Question of Stage Settings 

think that Joseph Urban alone among the im- 
portant stage decorators in America occasionally 
reverts to the easel-painter's system. 

in 

The plastic method of setting, which has so 
largely replaced the pictorial method in the pro- 
gressive theatres of both Europe and America, 
implies primarily that the artist shall work with 
things in the round instead of painting their sem- 
blances on a flat canvas. Such objects and back- 
grounds as he can bring to the stage in character- 
istic form, without suggesting a display of virtu- 
osity, are brought there; such others as cannot be 
shown in plastic form are suggested by concrete 
means, and not by pictorial representation. If a 
church scene is needed, the artist does not paint 
a picture of a church for a background, but sets 
up a single pillar or archway, which in its archi- 
tecture and its arrangement of aspiring lines 
suggests the calm dignity and heavy solemnity of 
a church. If a forest scene is called for, the art- 
ist no longer paints a canvas with a multitude 
of trees, each branch and leaf accurately drawn; 
he is more likely to arrange a series of cloth strips 
in place of tree trunks, and then light the stage 
so subtly that the mystery and depth of a forest 
are atmospherically suggested. If he has a mod- 

151 



The Art Theatre 

em room to show, he discards all painted relief, 
such as mouldings, doorframes, mantels, etc., and 
simplifies lines, masses and furnishings— con- 
ventionalizes the room by reducing it to the sim- 
plest form in which it will evoke the proper at- 
mosphere. The new stage artist seldom gets 
away from the use of canvas flats; they are still 
the lightest and most easily manipulated material 
for stage building. But he paints no objects on 
the canvas — he paints it instead in fiat colour. 
His canvas flat thus appears on the stage as one 
side of a solid, and not as a picture representing 
two or more sides in perspective. 

The reader who still finds the distinction be- 
tween the plastic and pictorial methods puzzling 
will do well to compare the illustrations appear- 
ing in this book with those to be found in the 
usual dramatic magazine or book. Not only 
are all the scenes shown herewith free from 
painted perspective, but in most, no paint was 
used except in flat mass as one would paint a 
house- wall. Of the two noticeable exceptions, 
the settings for "The Constant Lover" and "The 
Lost Silk Hat," where a conventionalized tree and 
vines have been painted, I shall have more to say 
in a moment. 



152 



The Question of Stage Settings 

IV 

When the reformers got rid of the artificialities 
of the pictorial stage setting, they at first accepted 
a plastic stage barren of any sort of decorative 
intent. The action is what counts, they said; 
and they proceeded to strip the stage of everything 
that might prove an interruption to interest in the 
action. Some advocated a return to the Eliza- 
bethan stage, others adopted curtain back- 
grounds ; but all came sooner or later to the real- 
ization that a merely neutral background only 
does half its duty to the production. It is in- 
finitely better than the old setting that interfered 
with the action by distracting the spectator's at- 
tention to foreign matters; but it adds nothing to 
the total appeal. 

In the plays produced with the new ideal in 
mind the setting has a definite decorative func- 
tion. The point to be remembered is that the 
decorative quality must take its rise in the milieu 
of the play. It must say to the eye what the 
poetry of the play says to the ear. The dec- 
orative note must be there, whether it be in the 
atmospheric lighting effects of Appia, or in the 
mysterious masses of light and shade created by 
Craig's manipulation of screens, or in the gor- 
geous halls and palaces of Urban. 

153 



The Art Theatre 

This decorative tendency is what is implied in 
the word stylization as applied to stage setting. 
But when one speaks of stylization it is immed- 
iately necessary to defend one's position against 
two sorts of misconception : first that stylization is 
typified by Reinhardt's ruthless method of trans- 
forming a Greek play into a Reinhardtian circus 
performance; and second, that it provides a 
method of overwhelming a good play, or redeem- 
ing a poor one, by sets that are a show in them- 
selves. This danger of overdoing the setting 
will always be inherent in the decorative method 
to a certain extent ; and for this reason a number 
of managers and critics who examined the case 
hastily and insisted upon judging by extreme ex- 
amples, have started a definite re-action against 
the whole new movement. What they failed to 
see is that this new phase of art, like many an- 
other, is valid only when practised by artists of 
the deeper vision — in this case, when practised 
under the control of artist-directors who have the 
impression of the ensemble of play, acting and 
staging at heart. 

Stylization of setting, according to my ideal, is 
merely a method of bringing the scene into har- 
mony with the essential spirit of the play, a means 
of beautifying the background to harmonize with 
the beauty of the poetry and the action. By his 
154 



The Question of Stage Settings 

own particular style of working, by his individual 
manner of using line, mass, colour, light and 
shade, the designer may stamp the setting with 
his own creative genius; but it is not the best 
sort of stylization unless it tends to reinforce the 
mood of the play as a whole. In other words, the 
decorative quality of the setting must be founded 
on dramatic fitness. 

The stage setting for art theatre production, 
then, will be designed by artists who gain decor- 
ative effect through plastic mediums. But I wish 
to add that I believe there is a certain type 
of play in which more latitude may be allowed in 
the designing — where a certain artificiality and 
exuberance of fancy may be carried into the deco- 
rative work. In most plays for children, in pure 
fantasy, in artificial comedy, in any production in 
which story value, dramatic tension, and tense 
mood are less important than imaginative turns 
of thought, surprise and fanciful suggestion, there 
is possibility of adding to the play's appeal by a 
compelling symbolism in the settings. A classic 
example is the Moscow Art Theatre's mounting 
of Maeterlinck's "The Blue Bird," a play which 
is at least episodic if not definitely undramatic, 
and so not in danger of having its continuity of 
meaning obscured by dynamically interesting 
settings. The Moscow artists tried to visualize 

155 



The Art Theatre 

the symbolism of the various scenes in their back- 
grounds, with the result that the action progressed 
through a series of fairyland pictures of a beauti- 
fully imaginative sort. Perhaps the reader will 
better understand if I say that the settings had 
the unreality, the fancy and the decorative qual- 
ity of Kay Nielsen's illustrations. 

The settings for such productions may legiti- 
mately be painted, for here a certain noticeable 
artificiality is not out of place. But perspective 
work and purely representative painting are not 
in keeping with either the general requirements 
of the stage or the spirit of conventional drama. 
The only excuse for painted scenery is a rigid 
conventionalization. So long as it has any real- 
istic intent it is out of key with the other elements. 
If we must still have painters in the theatre, they 
should be not of the old realistic sort, but of the 
imaginative-decorative type. It is in the spirit of 
such conventionalization that two of the settings 
in this book were conceived. The painted vines 
and the fanciful tree in the sets for "The Lost Silk 
Hat" and "The Constant Lover" are in perfect 
keeping with the spirit of these extremely artificial 
farce-comedies. 1 It seems to me that much is yet 

1 These two settings were designed and painted by Katherine 
McEwen, who worked with Sam Hume in the scene department 
throughout the season. 

156 



The Question of Stage Settings 

to be done in this direction of fanciful staging — 
when we have a Kay Nielsen of the theatre. 



It is hardly necessary to treat lighting as a 
separate topic. I have suggested several times 
the larger place it assumes in the new stagecraft. 
It is employed not only as a binding force — as 
one more means of reinforcing the spiritual 
mood of the play — but also as a definite means of 
developing the emotional rhythm. In certain 
European theatres lighting has all but taken the 
place of the setting; and in this country Urban 
and Hume especially have been pointed out as 
artists who "paint in lights." 

Just as changes of feeling, thought and emo- 
tion can be reflected in the lighting of a produc- 
tion, so can they be suggested in the colour ar- 
rangement. We are happily rid of the muddy 
colours of other days, on the stage as in the picture 
gallery, and a whole new scale of beautiful and 
expressive shades and tones has been placed at the 
artist's disposal. While the equipment of the 
progressive theatres in this country has not been 
such as to facilitate experiment, the more impor- 
tant designers are thoroughly alive to the poten- 
tiality of colour. I have seen several series of 
sketches by Norman-Bel Geddes in which the pro- 

157 



The Art Theatre 

gression of colour impression was definitely de- 
signed to evoke the changing moods necessary to 
the drama. And Claude Bragdon is promising a 
more revolutionary use of imaginative colouring 
in productions specially designed to affect the 
emotions through colour-sensibility. 

VI 

In the search for new methods which will aid 
in bringing unity to the production, many devices 
of value to the art theatre have been invented. 
Certain ones are purely mechanical — the revolv- 
ing stage and wagon stage are examples — and 
these for the most part are designed to cut down 
the waits while settings are being changed, thus 
tending to eliminate from the course of action 
breaks long enough to have a disillusioning ef- 
fect. The idea of suggesting an underlying unity 
of story by letting certain elements of the setting 
appear in each succeeding scene, has been worked 
out by diverse methods. Joseph Urban used 
what he called a permanent skeleton set through 
all the acts of "The Love of the Three Kings" at 
the Boston Opera House, and he has staged sev- 
eral other productions with stationary inner pro- 
sceniums and portals, achieving all changes in 
scene by new elements introduced at the back of 
the stage. Raymond Johnson has used a similar 
158 



The Question of Stage Settings 

arrangement of permanent fore-structure and 
changing inner scene for some of the productions 
at the Chicago Little Theatre; and Norman-Bel 
Geddes has used a single set of screens in varying 
combination for a play in seven scenes, at the Los 
Angeles Little Theatre. All these experiments 
have been valuable, showing that simplified and 
standardized settings can be used not only with a 
saving of time and expense, but with increased 
unity of feeling. But none are quite so sugges- 
tive, or quite so valuable to the American art 
theatre in its formative years, as two recent in- 
ventions which can be used not alone for the sev- 
eral scenes of a single play, but for practically 
every scene of every play worth producing. One 
is the screen setting, "the thousand scenes in one 
scene," invented by Gordon Craig; the other is the 
permanent adaptable setting designed and built by 
Sam Hume, who adopted Craig's basic theories 
and then worked out an independent solution of 
the interchangeable setting problem with different 
materials. These two systems of building stage 
scenes are of such practical value to the would-be 
art theatre that both demand extended descrip- 
tion. 



159 









The Art Theatre 

VII 

Gordon Craig, arguing from the fact that hun- 
dreds of thousands of dollars are wasted annually 
for scenery that loses all its value when the play's 
run is over — and this for a type of scenery that 
is utterly devoid of atmosphere, and usually lack- 
ing in artistic value of any sort, — set out to dis- 
cover a sort of stage scene that would be adaptable 
for any poetic production. The system of porta- 
ble folding screens which resulted from his years 
of experiment solved the problem beautifully, 
providing atmospheric backgrounds for a sur- 
prisingly wide range of play, at exceedingly small 
cost. But here is a point to be noted: the system 
is so simple, so devoid of trickery and pretentious- 
ness and extraneous ornament, that only men of 
deep artistic perception and delicate vision, only 
imaginative artists and true poets, can obtain the 
best results from its use. For this reason the in- 
vention has not made its way into the commercial 
theatre, and probably never will, despite the im- 
mense saving its use would entail. In the Mos- 
cow Art Theatre's famous production of "Ham- 
let" all the many and varied changes of a setting 
were merely re-arrangements of a set of Craig's 
screens. And at the Abbey Theatre of the Irish 
160 



The Question of Stage Settings 

Players the screens were used for poetic plays, 
with results which mark them as particularly 
fitted to bring out the spiritual mood and syn- 
thetic impression which are the implied goal of 
art theatre production. 

The invention is described in The Mask, in an 
unsigned article but presumably by Gordon 
Craig, as follows: — 

"The scene is made up usually of four, six, 
eight, ten or twelve screens, and, although some- 
times of more than twelve, seldom less than four. 
Each part or leaf of a screen is alike in every 
particular except breadth, and these parts together 
form a screen, composed of two, four, six, eight 
or ten leaves. These leaves fold either way and 
are monochrome in tint. The height of all these 
screens is alike. 

"These screens are self-supporting and are 
made either of a wooden frame covered with can- 
vas, or of solid wood. 

"With screens of narrow dimensions curved 
forms are produced, for large rectangular spaces 
broader leaved screens are used, and for varied 
and broken forms all sizes are employed. . . . 

"Sometimes certain additions may be made to 
this scene, such as a flight of steps, a window, a 
bridge, a balcony, and of course the necessary 

161 



The Art Theatre 

furniture, though great care and reserve must be 
exercised in making these additions so as to avoid 
the ridiculous. 

"This scene is a living thing. In the hands of 
an artist it is capable of all varieties of expres- 
sion, even as a living voice and a living face are 
capable of every expression. The scene remains 
always the same, while incessantly chang- 
ing. . . . 

"Through its use we obtain a sense of har- 
mony and a sense of variety at the same time. 
We may be said to have recovered one of the 
unities of the Greek drama without losing any of 
the variety of the Shakespearean drama. 

"We pass from one scene to another without a 
break of any kind, and when the change has come 
we are not conscious of any disharmony between 
it and that which has passed." 

William Butler Yeats, who had to do with 
the screens at the Abbey Theatre, is quoted in 
the same issue of The Mask as follows : 

"The scenery differs entirely from the old style 
of scenery, and consists chiefly of portable screens, 
by means of which beautiful decorative effects 
can be obtained, the working of the screens being 
based on certain mathematical proportions by 
which the stage manager can make walls, pillars, 
etc. ... a palace almost in a moment, a palace 
162 



The Question of Stage Settings 

of great cyclopean proportions, and which can be 
changed again almost in a moment into a room 
with long corridors, and be changed again into a 
third and very different scene just as quickly. 

"The primary value of Mr. Craig's invention 
is that it enables one to use light in a more natural 
and more beautiful way than ever before. We 
get rid of all the top hamper of the stage — all the 
hanging ropes and scenes which prevent the free 
play of light. It is now possible to substitute in 
the shading of one scene real light and shadow 
for painted light and shadow. Continually, in 
the contemporary theatre, the painted shadow is 
out of relation to the direction of the light, and, 
what is more to the point, one loses the extraor- 
dinary beauty of delicate light and shade. This 
means, however, an abolition of realism, for 
it makes scene-painting, which is, of course, a 
matter of painted light and shade, impossible. 
One enters into a world of decorative effects which 
give the actor a renewed importance. There is 
less to compete against him, for there is less de- 
tail, though there is more beauty." 

After the production of "Hamlet" at Moscow 
the correspondent of the London Times wrote of 
the screens as follows : 

"Mr. Craig has the singular power of carry- 
ing the spiritual significance of words and drama- 

163 



The Art Theatre 

tic situations beyond the actor to the scene in 
which he moves. By the simplest means he is 
able, in some mysterious way, to evoke almost 
any sensation of time or space, the scenes even in 
themselves suggesting variations of human emo- 
tions. 

"Take, for example, the Queen's chamber in 
the Castle of Elsinore. Like all the other scenes, 
it is simply an arrangement of the screens already 
mentioned. There is nothing which definitely 
represents a castle, still less the locality or period; 
and yet no one would hesitate as to its signifi- 
cance^ — and why? Because it is the spiritual 
symbol of such a room. A symbol, moreover, 
whose form is wholly dependent upon the action 
which it surrounds; every line, every space of 
light and shadow going directly to heighten and 
amplify the significance of that action, and be- 
coming thereby something more than its mere 
setting — a vital and component part no longer 
separable from the whole." 

The last lines are eloquent testimony to the 
value of this type of setting as an integral part 
of the production, as a part which, instead of dis- 
turbing the action as the usual setting does, con- 
tributes to the mood. In other words, it is an 
ideal means to art-theatre ends, so far as they 
concern the background of the play. 
164 



The Question of Stage Settings 

Gordon Craig's screens have never been ade- 
quately tested in this country. But some of the 
little theatres surely will make adaptations of the 
system, if, indeed, they do not arrange with Craig 
(who holds patents) for complete sets according 
to the original designs. This is the more likely 
to happen now that Sam Hume has made such a 
success with his adaptable setting at the Arts and 
Crafts Theatre. He gained inspiration from 
Craig, and he adopted Craig's principle of an 
interchangeable scene — and he is always careful 
to acknowledge this indebtedness. But his suc- 
cess in working out an independent system sug- 
gests that other artist-workers in the American 
theatre may start with the same principle and ar- 
rive at somewhat different but equally satisfac- 
tory results. 

VIII 

Before describing Hume's setting in detail, I 
wish to express my belief that no other of the pro- 
gressive theatres in America has shown a series 
of scenes so impressive and so well harmonizing 
with the respective plays, as the eleven variations 
of the permanent set at the Arts and Crafts 
Theatre. Putting aside consideration of realistic 
backgrounds at the Detroit playhouse, and re- 
membering that several of the permanent setting 

165 



The Art Theatre 

arrangements fell considerably short of the ideal, 
it is still clear that this was the finest group of 
stage backgrounds yet devised for a series of plays 
in an American theatre. It is possible to point to 
single productions of Urban or Jones or others 
as equalling or surpassing the average attained 
by Hume at Detroit; but no consecutive series of 
plays has been so well mounted. I know from 
direct comparison that the Arts and Crafts group 
was far superior to the series of settings for poetic 
plays of the Washington Square Players and the 
Portmanteau Players. The point to be remem- 
bered, if one is interested in little theatre and art 
theatre economics, is this : while gaining superior 
results artistically, Hume spent for eleven settings 
not more than the cost of two average settings in 
these other theatres. It is well to remember, too, 
that the range covered by the eleven scenes in- 
cluded such widely differing requirements as the 
interior of a mediaeval chateau for "The In- 
truder," the Gates of Thalanna for "The Tents of 
the Arabs," the wall of Heaven for "The Glit- 
tering Gate," and a Spartan palace for "Helena's 
Husband." 

The permanent setting includes the following 

units: four pylons, constructed of canvas on 

wooden frames, each of the three covered faces 

measuring two and one-half by eighteen feet ; two 

166 



The Question of Stage Settings 



PLASTER UALL 



PLANTER WALL 



T«fci-Ft>»Ki 



BpHpEfSl 






THE WONDER HAT 



TENTS OF THE ARABS 



PIASTER. WALL 

Ti T* 




Pi F» WlNBOW 






HELENA'S HUSBAND 



THE INTRUDER 



piAATltt WALL 




EXPLANATION 
A.B.CD = PYLONS 
$1,52 = 3* STAIR UNITS 
53 = G' 

M,M* MASKING SCREENS 
Fl,F2= ORIGINAL FLATS 
F3.F4 » ADDED •• 
~w~w « HANGINGS 



ROMANCE C? THE ROSE, 



Five arrangements of the permanent setting at the Arts and Crafts 
Theatre. 

167 



The Art Theatre 

canvas flats, each three by eighteen feet; two sec- 
tions of stairs three feet long, and one section eight 
feet long, of uniform eighteen-inch height; three 
platforms of the same height, respectively six, 
eight, and twelve feet long; dark green hangings 
as long as the pylons; two folding screens for 
masking, covered with the same cloth as that 
used in the hangings, and as high as the pylons; 
and two irregular tree-forms in silhouette. 

The pylons, flats, and stairs, and such added 
pieces as the arch and window, were painted in 
broken colour, after the system introduced by 
Joseph Urban, so that the surfaces would take 
on any desired colour under the proper lighting. 

The setting was seen in its simplest form in 
"The Wonder Hat" on the opening bill. The ar- 
rangement is indicated in the first diagram. The 
four pylons were set in pairs with the stairs be- 
tween, with the curtains and screens used only to 
frame the picture at the sides. The two flats 
were laid on their sides to form the balustrade 
back of the platforms. 

For "The Tents of the Arabs" the first impor- 
tant addition was made to the setting in the form 
of an arch. The pylons, central stairs, plat- 
forms, hangings, screens and tree-forms were set 
exactly as in "The Wonder Hat." The only 
changes were the addition of the arch at the cen- 
168 



The Question of Stage Settings 

tre, and the closing of the outer openings between 
the pylons by means of the flats that had previ- 
ously formed a balustrade. While the physical 
changes were few, the atmosphere of this setting 
was so entirely different that probably not a half 
dozen people in the audience realized that any of 
the same elements appeared in the two scenes. 
Incidentally it was one of the simplest and most 
satisfying backgrounds shown during the season. 

As seen on the stage, in colour and under 
Hume's subtle lighting, the setting for "Helena's 
Husband" was the most beautiful of the series. 
Aside from the properties, there was nothing on 
the stage that had not already appeared in the 
scenes of "The Wonder Hat" and "The Tents of 
the Arabs" except two decorated curtains, Two 
pylons, two sections of stairs, the platforms and 
the balustrade appeared exactly as in "The Won- 
der Hat." Only one pylon was used on the left 
side, thus leaving a wider opening for the bal- 
cony. The fourth pylon was brought down- 
stage right to suggest a corridor entrance. The 
arch and curtains formed a similar wall and en- 
trance at the left. 

With the addition, then, of two decorative cur- 
tains and the two necessary properties, this re- 
markable atmospheric scene was evolved, merely 
by re-arranging elements already on hand — and 

169 



The Art Theatre 

elements, incidentally, which had long before 
paid their cost. 

For the production of " Abraham and Isaac" the 
second important addition to the original setting 
was made, when a large Gothic window-piece 
was provided as an altar backing. The rest of 
the background was made up of the green cur- 
tains, and two pylons with decorations suggesting 
stained glass windows. 

For Maeterlinck's "The Intruder," which de- 
manded a room in an old chateau, one important 
addition was made, a flat with a door. At the 
left was the arch, then a pylon and curtain, and 
then the Gothic window, with practicable case- 
ments added. The rest of the back wall was 
made up of the new door-piece flanked by cur- 
tains, while the third wall consisted of two pylons 
and curtains. Stairs and platforms were utilized 
before the window and under the arch. A small 
two-stair unit was added, leading to the new door. 
This arrangement afforded exactly that sugges- 
tion of spaciousness and mystery for which the 
play calls. When the picture of this setting is 
placed beside that of any other in the whole series, 
it is difficult to see any duplication of elements 
— yet practically every piece used in the earlier 
plays is there. 

In the setting for "The Romance of the Rose," 
170 



The Question of Stage Settings 

a balcony on a street, a still more puzzling dif- 
ference is to be noted. Here there are two new 
pieces, a flat forming the front of the balcony, and 
a long flat with a niche for the Madonna figure. 
Temporary platforms also had to be constructed 
for the balcony floor. The pylons and hangings 
were used down-stage, to create the shadows of 
the dark street on either side. The two original 
flats and the arch and window, hardly seen by 
the audience, formed the walls at the sides of the 
balcony. On account of the cost of constructing 
the two new flats and the platforms this was one 
of the most expensive of the eleven variations of 
the permanent setting; but even here the entire 
outlay was less than twenty-five dollars. 

Of the other plays "The Glittering Gate" was 
the only one demanding important changes. The 
four pylons were utilized for the wall of Heaven, 
and immense gates were swung between the cen- 
tral pair. The two acts of Moliere's "A Doctor 
in Spite of Himself" were played before arrange- 
ments of the hangings, in the most daring of all 
Hume's experiments in simplification — and ex- 
periments that were not wholly satisfying. 

After the remarkable beauty and appropriate- 
ness of the series of settings, the most notable 
thing about them is their cheapness. Although 
the original equipment, as seen in "The Wonder 

171 



The Art Theatre 

Hat/' cost more, perhaps, than the average little 
theatre setting, it was far less expensive than 
the usual commercially designed set. And the 
particular point to be noted is that, once installed, 
changes and additions at very slight cost served 
to create effects which would have called for an 
outlay of several hundred dollars for each scene 
under the usual system. In the ten variations 
arranged after "The Wonder Hat" the total cost 
of added pieces averaged less than fifteen dollars 
for each scene. To the notoriously poor — 
though often notoriously extravagant — little thea- 
tres, such a solution of the scenic problem should 
be a godsend. 

The success of the system as worked out by 
Sam Hume is dependent upon several factors. 
First, of course, there is the physical require- 
ment of a stage with a sky-dome or plaster back- 
ground (a plain cyclorama drop is a passable 
substitute), and a flexible lighting equipment. 
In the second place there must be rigid standard- 
ization of the original elements and of each added 
unit. And most important, there must be a di- 
rector who combines inventive ability with artis- 
tic taste. 

The permanent setting at Detroit was used 
for poetic plays, for those productions which 
demanded atmospheric background rather than 
172 



The Question of Stage Settings 

definite locality, and occasionally for such a mod- 
ern interior as that of " Suppressed Desires." But 
no attempt was made to extend its function to 
the mounting of realistic plays; special sets were 
built for such plays as "Trifles," "The Last Man 
In," and "Lonesomelike." It happens that the 
settings for these plays represented one of the 
weakest spots, artistically, of the whole achieve- 
ment at the Arts and Crafts Theatre; and of 
course each of these poorer settings cost more than 
any of the variations of the permanent set. This 
suggests the possibility of standardizing a mod- 
ern interior which could be used in variation for 
practically any modern realistic play. It seems 
to me certain that some one of the little theatres 
will perfect a setting of this sort. Then it would 
be possible, with a permanent setting based on 
Craig's plan or Hume's, and an adaptable real- 
istic set, to stage any play of either the poetic or 
realistic sort. 

No one can say how serviceable the adaptable 
setting idea will prove when our art theatres ma- 
ture. It may be that when they grow up and 
have money to spend freely, they will retain 
only the plastic and atmospheric theory of Craig, 
and prefer to build each setting anew in pursuit 
of that theory. My own judgment, however, is 
that, aside from the artistic principles involved, 

173 



The Art Theatre 

the basic economic idea of the system is such that 
it will be retained even by the most advanced and 
wealthy art theatres. They will more freely add 
new units and odd pieces, but they will rely on a 
permanent setting for the core of most of their 
backgrounds. This, however, is only specula- 
tion. What I very strongly feel to be true now 
is this: At the present stage of the art theatre 
game in this country, no organization can afford 
to overlook the invention; for it offers to the real 
artists in the theatre a simple solution of one 
phase of synthetic production, at a price within 
their means. It means more art in the playhouse, 
and fewer financial failures. 



174 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE QUESTION OF AUDIENCES AND THE 
COMMUNITY 



IT would be useless to set down a matured 
art theatre, playing the best drama continu- 
ously, in the average American city. It 
would find no audiences ready to accept its of- 
ferings, and it would have no relation to the art 
life and civic life of its community. It would 
die for not having its roots in native soil. 

Somewhat paradoxically, it is useless to or- 
ganize audiences and community theatre asso- 
ciations before there are companies aiming to 
supply the demand for better dramatic fare. 
Drama League Centres and drama circles of 
women's clubs have made this mistake. The or- 
ganizers recognized the deplorable condition of 
the American stage, and they stirred up people to 
form audiences and demand better drama; and 
then, having nothing but an outside knowledge of 
the theatre, they asked the tradition-bound and 
unenlightened commercial manager to step in and 

175 



The Art Theatre 

supply some art — as one might ask the prostitute 
to turn virgin again, and radiate sweet innocence 
ever afterward. 

The result is that the country now has an im- 
mense audience for written drama, which is a 
mighty good thing in its way; and this audience 
is demanding the best in produced drama, but has 
had absolutely no training in recognition and 
appreciation of what that best will be. 

The Drama League Centres, with a few notable 
exceptions, have been notoriously neglectful of 
creative dramatic enterprises in their own dis- 
tricts. Little theatre groups in all parts of the 
country have complained that they could obtain 
neither co-operation nor encouragement from the 
one organization founded ostensibly to aid prog- 
ress toward better theatre art. The Drama 
League is organized as a league of community 
art theatres should be, with local self-governing 
centres loosely joined in a national body. But 
until it sees the wisdom of locking forces with 
the creative groups, it will tend to remain primar- 
ily a sort of Chautauqua reading circle, and its 
boasted aid towards a new theatre will remain 
merely a boast. 

The first normal step toward a community thea- 
tre is likely to be in some such obscure venture 
as a little theatre working on an experimental 
176 



Audiences and the Community 

basis, amateurishly at first, but with intelligent 
growth toward an ideal. Such practical begin- 
nings, nearly always initiated by a group of en- 
lightened artist- workers, should early receive the 
support of the enlightened theorists of the com- 
munity, as represented by such organizations as 
the Drama League. The two should then develop 
together. The producing group must be profes- 
sionalized, probably by calling in an experienced 
art director, but must retain its native character. 
The audience group must be willing to overlook 
certain inevitable failures of the producing com- 
pany at first, not looking for artistic perfection 
in the beginning. On such foundations will a 
group of sound community theatres appear in this 
country. And that will be our national theatre. 

n 

"Community theatre" is at best only a relative 
term. As most of us use the phrase it has noth- 
ing to do with the "civic theatre" of Percy Mac- 
Kaye, in which community participation on the 
stage is the test. His civic theatre associations 
would have nothing to do with the purveying of 
art for the people, but would only use the art form 
as a convenient medium for developing a whole- 
some civic consciousness, through bringing many 
people shoulder to shoulder in play — which, like 

177 



The Art Theatre 

an Iowa picnic, is an excellent thing in its way, 
but has little to do with the higher phases of art. 
"Community theatre," moreover, does not neces- 
sarily mean a theatre which is designed to serve 
a majority of the people of its city, or even any 
considerable percentage of the population. If the 
owning and producing groups have grown up 
out of native experiment and interest, if the pro- 
ductions reflect the best demands of the commun- 
ity in a form acceptable to enough members to 
keep the institution thoroughly alive, if the price 
of admission is low enough so that no wide sec- 
tion of the public is debarred through inability to 
pay for admission, then it is a community theatre 
in a very practical sense. 

in 

It is natural that audiences for an "advanced" 
art of the theatre should not exist in the average 
American city at present. Because the playhouse 
became commercialized and its productions stereo- 
typed, theatregoers have been trained in appre- 
ciation of the obvious and the sensational, with 
seldom a chance to form a taste for the phases 
of dramatic art that are most worth while. 

But potential audiences for the best drama do 
exist in the average American city. They are 
unorganized and badly scattered, but can be built 
178 



Audiences and the Community 

up as an art theatre grows. I base my opinion 
here on the experience of such organizations as 
the Arts and Crafts Theatre and the Washington 
Square Players. Few cities could look more un- 
promising for art theatre activity than the De- 
troit of a few years ago. It is a city of material 
interests, with an immense proportion of foreign 
and uncultured elements in the population. Its 
art life is far more sluggish than that of many a 
smaller city of the Middle and Far West, and it is 
a poor theatre town even for commercial compan- 
ies. But when the most active native art group, 
after scattered experiments without professional 
direction, built its theatre and called in one of 
the foremost artist-directors in the country, the 
audience was found. When the Washington 
Square Players started production in New York 
they were marked for failure by those "on the 
inside." No audience, was the verdict. But the 
organization not only stayed, but moved to one 
of the large downtown theatres, and continued to 
strike an art average far above that of the sur- 
rounding business theatres. 

I think that there is not a city of one hundred 
thousand people in this country where a begin- 
ning organization aiming toward an ultimate art 
theatre could not find a supporting audience, 
granted that the appeal was not too narrow at 

179 



The Art Theatre 

first, that an expert artist-director was in charge, 
and that the project was managed in a business- 
like way. And this audience would grow 
with the organization, so that the mature art 
theatre would have its proper community sup- 
port. 

IV 

Most American little theatres lean for their 
chief support upon a subscription audience. Be- 
cause they are not endowed, nor capitalized, as 
is the business theatre, they find the security en- 
joyed under this system necessary to any sort of 
permanency. But the subscription system has 
more advantages than the securing of a certain 
income each season. A subscribing audience al- 
ways feels a proprietary interest in the theatre. 
It is the link between the producing group and 
the community. This is a matter of such im- 
portance that I think that even an endowed art 
theatre, with its implied economic independence, 
would be very unwise to abandon the subscrip- 
tion basis. From humble beginnings to maturity 
it should have its "members." 

In Berlin there is a theatre with 50,000 sub- 
scribers. It happens in this case that the sub- 
scription audience also owns the theatre. But 
the point is that through such organization the 
180 



Audiences and the Community 

producers provide plays better chosen, better acted 
and better staged than the commercial average, 
for a charge of twenty-five cents per member. 
The saving that makes this revolutionary result 
possible may be summed up in this way: 

No one makes a speculative profit from the 
theatre; there are no failures, and the spectator 
is not charged, as in the American system, for 
the play he sees and for two others on which 
the producer lost money; the actors are employed 
by the year, and do not have to charge an inflated 
price for their services, as our American actors 
do when employed, to make up for long intervals 
of unemployment; the rental charge is low be- 
cause the theatre does not need to be in the high- 
rent district, and because it is always in use 
(American theatres charge against the short sea- 
son lessee enough to cover the loss accruing dur- 
ing the considerable number of weeks when the 
building is dark) ; and there are no traveling ex- 
penses, advertising costs are radically reduced, 
and sundry savings are effected through stand- 
ardized methods in the producing and business 
departments. 

The subscription system thus not only binds 
the community to the theatre, but when properly 
managed may prevent so much waste that the 
productions can be bettered even while the prices 

181 



The Art Theatre 

are being cut to a fraction of those charged by 
commercial theatres. 



The relation of the theatre and the community 
should not be merely that of artist and patron; it 
should involve a wide influence in shaping the 
social and recreational life of the city. For the 
present, because we are in such a dramatic waste, 
it is most important that the little theatres and 
art theatres do educational work in their com- 
munities in an effort to create some sort of pub- 
lic standards of amusement. As the need is so 
elementary, it is probable that this work can be 
begun best through the schools. 

At Detroit, Sam Hume counted among his duties 
as director of the Arts and Crafts Theatre the 
organization and instruction of a class of teachers. 
These people, he argued, are directing and will 
continue to direct student productions at the 
schools, and if they have no other model they will 
make their staging a poor copy of that seen in 
the commercial theatre. So he set about to teach 
them the underlying principles of theatre pro- 
duction, with special reference to a simplified 
but genuine stagecraft. During the second year 
the class, largely experimental so far, will take 
its definite place in the organization of the Arts 
182 



Audiences and the Community 

and Crafts Theatre. In order further to con- 
nect the theatre's work with the schools a special 
form of membership was arranged for teachers, 
and at the later productions the dress rehearsals 
were opened to invited audiences of students and 
teachers. Both these features will be continued 
during the second season. 

Sam Hume carried the work of the theatre 
out into the community by lecturing extensively 
before women's clubs and other organizations; 
and a wider audience was brought to the theatre 
by lectures delivered there by authorities of na- 
tional and international reputation. Several 
schools called Mr. Hume into consultation while 
planning stages for their auditoriums, and this 
work he regarded as part of his service to the 
community as director of the theatre. But the 
most novel feature of his extension work will be 
added during the next season, when he plans to 
build a portable stage, somewhat like that of the 
Portmanteau Players, on which he will be able to 
produce in school auditoriums and social halls 
the best of the plays arranged for the Arts and 
Crafts Theatre. This not only will help to over- 
come the limitations of small audiences and high 
prices now obtaining at the theatre, but will carry 
the offerings into every section of the city, with 
consequent wide influence on public taste. 

183 



The Art Theatre 

There is no reason why the art theatre should 
not be a part or even the nucleus of such social 
centres as many cities are now trying to provide 
for their people. The settlement theatres, such 
as that at Hull House, are embodiments of the 
idea, but they are a little too closely linked up 
with the redemption of slums to maintain a high 
artistic standard. We want art theatres in which 
the best life of the city, and particularly the art 
life, revolves around the dramatic centre. 

This idea is more applicable to smaller cities 
than to such a metropolis as New York or Chi- 
cago. In many small towns seeds for such in- 
stitutions have already been sown. In some the 
theatre will never climb beyond an amateurish 
plane; but it will be a vital element in the com- 
munity life nevertheless. I have in mind at the 
moment a little theatre at Ypsilanti, Michigan. 
When the first suggestion of such an institution 
was made, there was little response. But now 
the Ypsilanti Players have a tiny playhouse of 
their own, offering productions at regular in- 
tervals, and the organization is perhaps the livest 
social element in the town. It has provided a 
bond of interest that unites factions and overrides 
narrow social distinctions. When the organiza- 
tion moves from its present cramped quarters, 
moreover, it plans to make its new building more 
184 



Audiences and the Community 

than a theatre in the ordinary sense. It will be 
in effect a social centre, designed to afford whole- 
some amusement of various sorts, with the drama- 
tic activities as a central attraction and binding 
force. 

How far a theatre alone can weave its place into 
the deeper life of a community has been proved 
at the Prairie Playhouse at Galesburg, Illinois, 
where a bar-room was remodeled to serve as a 
playhouse. Here one of the few enlightened cen- 
tres of the Drama League joined hands with the 
amateur producing group, and the theatre be- 
came a definite force in the recreational life of 
the community, a notable social asset, and an in- 
stitution for the citizens to be proud of. 

Such playhouses are not likely to approach 
closely the art-theatre ideal of production. At 
both Galesburg and Ypsilanti the architectural 
and mechanical limitations are such that even an 
inspired artist-director could not hope to reach 
the finished standard implied in the term "art 
theatre.' ' While the producers often make a vir- 
tue of their necessity, and occasionally secure 
effects with a fresh loveliness unknown in the 
commercial theatre, they are distinctly limited in 
achievement of beauty in staging. But even un- 
der such limitation there is in their activities 
a real service to the art of the theatre. In the 

185 



The Art Theatre 

list of Galesburg plays one finds the names of 
new and unknown authors sandwiched between 
those of Charles Rann Kennedy, Anton Tchekoff 
and William Vaughan Moody; and at Ypsilanti 
the range has been equally wide. In other words, 
even though the staging may have been merely 
passable, if not crude, the communities in which 
such playhouses exist have had tastes of the best 
in drama; both players and audiences have been 
influenced toward the best in dramatic literature. 
When these people visit New York, moreover, 
they will go to see first, not "The Century Girl," 
or the Winter Garden Show or "Little Lady in 
Blue," but the Washington Square Players, or 
such unusual offerings as "The Yellow Jacket" 
and "Pierrot the Prodigal." In other words, each 
progressive centre, no matter how small or how 
amateurish, reflects its good work on the activities 
of all the others. 

Following the thought as it applies to a large 
city, one remembers that the Neighborhood Play- 
house has had a definite influence on the thea- 
trical situation in New York. Commercial man- 
agers are not insensible to the fact that last year's 
compilers of "all- American" lists of plays ranked 
two Neighborhood productions in the first ten; 
that another Broadway critic described one of the 
Playhouse's amateur players as giving perhaps 
186 



Audiences and the Community 

the finest individual performance of the season; 
and that the Neighborhood group, in conjunc- 
tion with amateur and semi-professional com- 
panies elsewhere, introduced a dramatist who be- 
came more of a sensation with the great American 
public than any playwright discovered on Broad- 
way in the last ten years. Managers hear of 
striking incidents like these; and while they can- 
not capture the qualities that make the Neigh- 
borhood Playhouse productions most worth 
while, they will modify their offerings a little to 
meet the competition; and there will be thus a 
slight advantage to the whole New York com- 
munity. 

In this way the new spirit, finding expression 
in any narrow section of a community, reaches out 
until it affects the whole. Audiences everywhere 
benefit by its achievement of a new standard of 
excellence in production — and one more step is 
taken toward creating a nation-wide audience for 
the coming art theatre. 



187 



CHAPTER IX 

ORGANIZATION AND MANAGEMENT 

HENRY IRVING was fond of saying 
that "the theatre must succeed as a 
business if it is to succeed as an art." 
The statement carries a false implication as well 
as a sound core of truth. It is not true that the 
theatre must pay dividends on the excessive 
capitalization forced upon it under our abnormal 
competitive commercial system. It is not even 
true that a theatre must be entirely self-support- 
ing — for we know that art usually flourishes more 
readily under endowment. But whether a thea- 
tre is economically dependent upon chance audi- 
ences or endowed to a greater or less extent, it 
must be intelligently organized and cleanly ad- 
ministered, or it cannot serve art wholesomely or 
permanently. The endowed theatre must be self- 
supporting within the terms of its endowment, 
and every playhouse must adopt common-sense 
business principles in management, if it is to 
succeed in creating and perpetuating a worthy 
art. 

188 



Organization and Management 

Too many little theatres have discounted the 
value of business efficiency, and there have been 
innumerable failures on that account. For this 
reason I wish to emphasize the need for sound 
management. No little theatre, or other organ- 
ization looking toward art theatre production, 
should initiate activities without a definite plac- 
ing of control and a predetermined system of 
administration. 



The plan of organization which has proved 
most successful is one under which responsibility 
is three-fold. First, there is a holding group, 
owning the theatre or representing the owners, 
which determines the policy and is a court of last 
appeal for all questions arising in the two ad- 
ministrative departments; second, there is an art- 
ist-director who is responsible for every activity 
behind the curtain, and has complete power in 
everything pertaining to production; and third, 
there is a business manager who is responsible 
for front-of-the-house administration, and who 
has charge of seat sales, rentals, bookkeeping, etc. 

The controlling group, which must be organ- 
ized as a self-perpetuating body, necessarily de- 
termines the general policy of the theatre. If it 
has not full ownership, it represents the true 

189 



The Art Theatre 

owners before the world, whether they are merely 
a larger or smaller group of individuals, or an or- 
ganized audience, or a municipality. As repre- 
sentative of the community, this holding commit- 
tee is a go-between responsible to the member- 
ship or audience on one side, and holding reins 
leading to the artist-director and business man- 
ager on the other. It must be ready to meet sug- 
gestions, demands, and complaints from these 
three directions. It holds the only check on the 
director, and it must decide all questions arising 
between that often-temperamental official and the 
hard-headed business manager. It must deter- 
mine such matters as the number of performances 
to be given, basing its decision on the estimates 
of producing and business departments; and it 
must adopt a policy which will satisfy the audi- 
ence to a reasonable extent. Needless to say, per- 
haps, this committee should be composed of for- 
ward-looking artists and art lovers, with a safe 
portion of business sense thrown in by way of 
balance. 

The ownership of American art theatres, the 
question whether they will be in the hands of in- 
dividuals, or of societies more or less responsible 
to the community, like Art Associations, or of 
municipalities, is purely a matter of speculation. 
But it is probably true that private ownership 
190 



Organization and Management 

is the method offering fewest advantages, and 
municipal ownership a goal to which we should 
work definitely but very cautiously. 

Private individual ownership is usually de- 
structive of art ideals because the single owner 
seldom feels any responsibility to the community, 
and he is interested more in profits than in giv- 
ing the best drama. If a single owner were in- 
spired by the highest ideals, and through wide 
experience and breadth of taste could take the 
place of the controlling group, administering his 
theatre directly through his artist-director and 
business manager, he might develop a model art 
theatre. But the same limitations pertain here 
as in the matter of autocratic government. A 
just and enlightened autocracy is perhaps the 
best type of government that ever existed ; but the 
benevolent despot is so rare that all the world is 
driven to seek democracy instead. 

Group ownership, ownership vested in a small 
body of artists, workers and others deeply in- 
terested in the theatre, has proved successful at 
the Moscow Art Theatre and other institutions in 
Europe; and it is not an uncommon basis of or- 
ganization among American little theatres — al- 
though most of them do not own buildings, but 
only the settings, good will and similar assets. 
Under this system the owners naturally act as 

191 



The Art Theatre 

the controlling body, as a board of administration 
acting through the artist-director and business 
manager. There is nothing in this small-group 
ownership to prevent the theatre becoming a sub- 
scription house, with a definite community rela- 
tionship, if the owners are sincere in their de- 
sire to serve art and their audiences rather than 
to make speculative profits. 

Ownership vested in such a group as trustees 
for an organized audience, or for the municipal- 
ity, is an ultimate goal in this country, and a 
system which has proved phenomenally success- 
ful in certain German cities. But it is doubtful 
whether the ground has already been prepared 
for the establishment of a municipal art theatre 
in America. It seems that the cry for commu- 
nity playhouses has been a bit ill-timed. The 
natural order is to progress from experimental art 
theatre to municipal theatre. I have more faith 
in development of the movement through play- 
houses owned for the present by groups of artist- 
workers or by art societies. 

I have very little faith in the development of 
significant theatres where ownership remains 
with a group of amateur actors alone. A clear 
distinction should be made between the old-time 
dramatic-social clubs and the theatres developed 
by organizations interested primarily in the art 
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Organization and Management 

of the theatre. Doubtless there are amateur 
players' clubs in Chicago; but none of them has 
had anything to do with the two important ex- 
perimental theatres in that city, the Chicago Lit- 
tle Theatre and the Players' Workshop. In De- 
troit there are two very active amateur actors' 
associations; but even though they use the Arts 
and Crafts Playhouse and have gained artistically 
through seeing the work of Sam Hume's com- 
pany at that theatre, they remain in the unimpor- 
tant list : they still are more interested in the thea- 
tre production as a social function and as a means 
of amusing themselves than in the betterment of 
dramatic art. The Arts and Crafts Theatre had 
separate origin in a group of artists. 

A case of mixed origin, with ownership still 
vested in a body of amateur actors, is to be seen 
in the San Francisco Little Theatre. Here the 
amateur Players' Club, accepting the impulse of 
the progressive movement, built its Little Theatre. 
But while the institution is one of the most active 
in the country today, it has failed to approach art- 
theatre standards. There has been a certain ac- 
cretion of progressive artists, with a consequent 
raising of ideals, and a desire to do the best thing ; 
but the organization has been so handicapped by 
the ideas clinging from its older social-dramatic 
club days that it is in no way to be classed with 

193 



The Art Theatre 

such institutions as the Chicago Little Theatre 
and the Arts and Crafts Theatre. It has proved 
valuable as a trying-out ground for local play- 
wrights; but if it be granted that the first object 
of such theatres should be rounded-out produc- 
tion, the San Francisco group has so far failed. 
Perhaps this type of organization would rise to 
art-theatre standards if put in charge of an artist- 
director. But the artist-director would here be 
responsible to the actor-owners, an arrangement 
that would be satisfactory just so long as he 
chose actors in accordance with that group's per- 
sonal wishes, and intolerable as soon as he struck 
out independently and cast the plays to the best 
advantage artistically. The actor-owner is sub- 
ject to many of the same objections as the actor- 
manager of the commercial theatre. The system 
presents so many dangers that it would be wise 
for any amateur dramatic club desiring to rise to 
the little theatre or art theatre level to appoint a 
controlling board including a majority of non- 
actors, and then submit entirely to the decisions 
of that board. 

One other sort of association ownership merits 
attention. When two long-established art asso- 
ciations opened new buildings in the autumn of 
1916, each containing a complete theatre equipped 
according to progressive standards, a new and 
194 



Organization and Management 

significant phase of theatre progress in this coun- 
try was recorded. An outcast among the arts 
was restored to a dignified place beside painting 
and sculpture, and the idealists and recognized 
artists of two communities came into direct touch 
with theatre production. The Artists' Guild of 
St. Louis, to be sure, after one production of its 
own, leased its theatre to an outside organization 
that was ill-managed and brought no fame to the 
playhouse. But hereafter the art society will 
have direct control over the policy to be followed 
throughout the season, having employed an artist- 
director to organize the existing dramatic re- 
sources and supervise all matters pertaining to 
staging. The Arts and Crafts Society of De- 
troit at the beginning adopted the wiser method of 
keeping control of its theatre's policy in its own 
hands; it called in the most experienced artist- 
director available, and left to him the formation 
of a company in the Society's name. The Society 
exerts control through its Theatre Committee, a 
group of artists and men of affairs who have 
shown particular interest in dramatic art. The 
success of the first season speaks for the wisdom of 
adopting such a system. 

Personally I believe that there is an immense 
benefit to be gained by the progressive theatres 
through close co-operation with the well-estab- 

195 



The Art Theatre 

lished art societies; and it is not at all unlikely 
that many an American art theatre of the future 
will be founded and developed through the ac- 
tivities of such organizations. They offer those 
advantages of a definite foothold in the com- 
munity, permanency of organization, and partial 
endowment (since they usually own their build- 
ings), which are so important in the formative 
period of a theatre's career. I may add inci- 
dentally that, if the experience at Detroit is a 
fair example, the dramatic activity will in turn 
bring certain benefits to the art society — the new 
vitality which comes with awakened interest in a 
new art, and wider community interest through 
the bringing of a new audience to the society's 
building. 

ii 

Of the second of the departments existing un- 
der the three-unit system of organization, the 
producing department, much has been written in 
earlier chapters. Of the duties and powers of 
the responsible head, the artist-director, I have 
already said enough. But I wish to emphasize 
one point: the artist-director must have complete 
charge of every activity connected with staging. 
To him, and to him alone, the electrician, the 
scene designer and builder, the costumer and the 
196 



Organization and Management 

actor must look for their orders. His one limita- 
tion must be that of the size of his budget. Be- 
yond that he should be free from interference by 
the business manager or by the controlling group 
above. That group may remove him if a pro- 
duction has in their estimation failed. But while 
the production is in preparation they must main- 
tain a "hands-off" policy. 

It was because of the failure to observe this 
clear division of power, this even balance of 
authority and responsibility, that the 1916-17 
season at the Los Angeles Little Theatre failed 
to take rank among the lastingly important art 
theatre experiments in this country. The Players 
Producing Company under the leadership of 
Aline Barnsdall leased a theatre and inaugurated 
a season which should have been brilliant. No 
less than three experienced directors were se- 
cured, Richard Ordynski, Irving Pichel, and 
Herbert Heron. The broth was endangered right 
then and there. But to make matters impossible, 
not only was no one of these directors given full 
charge, but the three together were subject to 
interference from above. The supervising brain 
was not that which attended to the details of stag- 
ing. The result was confusion among the stage 
forces, delayed openings, and dissatisfaction in 
various quarters. The theatre brought together 

197 



The Art Theatre 

a remarkable array of talent, and was not handi- 
capped financially. But, despite its achievement 
in certain directions — particularly in the stage 
settings of Norman-Bel Geddes, and in the value 
of individual plays — the season as a whole was a 
disappointment. Failure to establish a definite 
line between the controlling group and the pro- 
ducing group, and failure to give the artist-pro- 
ducer a free rein, all but wrecked the enterprise. 
The placing of complete control of the stage 
in an artist-director's hands does not mean that 
co-operation of artists in staging is impossible. 
On the contrary, there will usually be the fullest 
co-operation of the director with the members of 
the controlling committee and other artists di- 
rectly interested in the work. The point is that 
the director should be left free to take the first 
step toward such co-operation; it should not be 
forced upon him. At Detroit, Sam Hume took 
full advantage of the unusual talent placed at 
his disposal through connection with the Costume 
Department of the Society of Arts and Crafts; 1 
and a member of the Society, Katherine McEwen, 
collaborated with him in designing and making 

1 The three artists of the Costume Department, Helen Plumb, 
Alexandrine McEwen and Katherine McEwen, formed practically 
an advisory board, and Mr. Hume turned to them for expert aid 
in many departments of the work. 

198 



Organization and Management 

the settings; but he was put under no obligation 
to work with this or any other group. 

It is noticeable that the two most important 
little theatres in the country are those in which 
the directors have had broadest powers and great- 
est freedom from interference — at Chicago and 
Detroit. 

m 

The business manager is a rarity in the Amer- 
ican little theatre. Whereas the artist was en- 
tirely displaced by the business man in the com- 
mercial theatre, the business man has been almost 
entirely lost in the visionary artist in the insurg- 
ent theatre. It was natural that the revolt should 
be carried to extremes, and that institutions with- 
out centralized responsibility and with volunteer 
administration should neglect, if not scorn, busi- 
ness efficiency. People usually join such organ- 
izations because they are interested in art, and 
they avoid the thankless tasks of selling tickets, 
keeping books, and house management. But lit- 
tle theatres have made their most serious mistake 
in this direction. They would gain if they would 
realize that "non-commercial" does not neces- 
sarily mean — indeed, must not mean — unbusi- 
nesslike. If they cannot find a volunteer worker 
to carry on the hard work of the business depart- 

199 



The Art Theatre 

ment, they will save in the end by employing a 
manager. Indeed, to initiate little theatre or art 
theatre work without a capable man in charge 
of the business department is to court failure. 

In a sense the business manager is just as im- 
portant as the artist-director. At any rate a fail- 
ure in his department is quite as certain to wreck 
the whole enterprise. He should be as deeply 
interested in the theatre, and he should be ready 
to make the same sacrifices of time and effort for 
it. He must have as complete charge before the 
curtain as the artist-director has behind. His 
relation to the holding group is that of the super- 
vising manager of a business corporation to his 
board of directors. His relation to the artist-di- 
rector is limited to a determination of the amount 
to be expended by the producing department. 
Having determined the probable income for the 
season, he is able to say to the artist-director 
(through the controlling board) : "You may spend 
so much on the entire series of plays, which means 
approximately such-and-such an amount for each 
production." As to the relative expenditure on 
different items, for costuming, for instance, or 
lighting, or settings, he properly has no author- 
ity, so long as the director keeps within the 
gross amount of his appropriation. As to possi- 
ble friction between the business manager and art 
200 



Organization and Management 

director, there is always a way of settlement 
through the board to which both are responsible. 
And let me add that it is better to have such fric- 
tion if the questions involved will not otherwise 
be brought up. Dodging the issue of control over 
expenditures has wrecked more than one little 
theatre. The recently organized Pittsburgh 
Theatre Association inadvertently spent two 
thousand dollars on its first production, and right 
then and there nearly killed the whole project 
— because no business manager held a check on 
what was being paid out by the producing de- 
partment. 

The duties of the business manager fall natu- 
rally into four divisions: ticket sales, including 
subscriptions and box office sales ; house manage- 
ment; advertising; and the duties of a treasurer, 
book-keeping, paying out moneys, and budget- 
making. Of the first two of these divisions little 
need be said. The types of subscription, whether 
or not there shall be a subscription committee for 
a personal canvass of the community, and ar- 
rangements for ticket sales to the public, are mat- 
ters that have to be determined by special condi- 
tions. Under house management are grouped 
such duties as organizing a force of ushers, at- 
tending to lights, ticket-taking, janitor service, 
and, if the organization owns its theatre, rentals. 

201 



The Art Theatre 

These are matters which will be taken care of by 
common sense — if the manager is definitely 
charged with them in the first place. 

IV 

The work of the business manager in his ca- 
pacity as treasurer of the theatre should be as 
thoroughly systematized as that of any corpora- 
tion. Not only to safeguard against conscious 
or unconscious dishonesty, but also in order to 
make possible accurate estimating of the thea- 
tre's current status and future possibilities, it is 
necessary to keep strict account of every penny 
paid in or disbursed. No materials should be 
bought, or bills paid, without receipts being ob- 
tained. Only thus can the bookkeeper be as- 
sured of absolute accuracy. This lesson was 
learned by experience at the Arts and Crafts 
Theatre. At the first production of the series, 
purchases of stage accessories and incidentals 
were made at random. When accounts were 
made up not only was there a question of exactly 
what the total cost had been, but it was impossi- 
ble to make out an itemized list of expenditures, 
thus preventing accurate budget-making for the 
future. It was necessary to make a general ex- 
pense charge which prevented exact apportion- 
ment of charges against the various departments 
202 



Organization and Management 

at the end of the year. This lesson once learned, 
a system was adopted which made necessary a 
written record of every expenditure. When an 
expert accountant reported his examination of the 
books to the subscribers at the end of the season, 
he pointed out that this theatre, in contrast to 
nine out of ten in the non-commercial class, not 
only finished the season with a surplus, but knew 
exactly where every cent of its five thousand and 
odd dollars had gone, with the exception of the 
general expense item from the first play. This 
sort of common-sense administration means in- 
creased confidence among the theatre's supporters, 
firm foundations for every new project, and peace 
of mind for director, manager, and owners. 

The bookkeeping system adopted at the Arts 
and Crafts Theatre was of the ordinary double- 
entry sort. By taking a trial balance at any time 
it was possible to know not only the standing of 
the theatre as a whole, but whether the production 
in hand was keeping within estimates. A bal- 
ance was taken after every production, and it was 
then possible to readjust apportionments for the 
remainder of the season. 

One cannot emphasize too strongly the impor- 
tance of planning ahead and seeing the necessary 
money in sight before launching a series of pro- 
ductions. Budget-making is, indeed, the first 

203 



The Art Theatre 

important step after preliminary organization has 
been effected. Usually the director and con- 
trolling board make a rough estimate of the prob- 
able cost for the season. Then the manager and 
subscription committee start their campaign. 
After the field for subscriptions has been can- 
vassed so that a fairly accurate estimate of the 
income can be made, the director will probably 
have to make revised cost estimates. But the 
final budget (because the only one based on the 
amount of money actually available) will be that 
made at the time actual work on the first produc- 
tion is begun. 

I wish to emphasize also the wisdom of econo- 
mizing on the first production of a season. The 
tendency to " splurge" at the beginning is likely 
to bring results similar to those recently exper- 
ienced at Pittsburgh. More than one little 
theatre worker has told me that a safe system is 
to deduct ten per cent of the subscription money 
for overhead expense and permanent equipment, 
and then divide the balance by the number of 
productions, in order to find the amount to be 
spent on the first production. In other words, 
do not count at all on box office sales, but make 
your beginning performance on the basis of sub- 
scription returns only. Doubtless there will be 
some sales to the general public, but at the start 
204 



Organization and Management 

no one ever knows just how small they may be. 
Usually they turn out to be about one-third of the 
most conservative estimates. After the first pro- 
duction is over, it is possible to revise estimates 
to include money taken in at the box office, and to 
plan more expensive productions on that safe 
basis. 

If the theatre does not own its home, the 
rent charge must be added to the ten per cent 
allowed for overhead expense and permanent in- 
vestment; and at the beginning of a theatre's 
career there will be extra expense for initial 
equipment. Other items will also have to be ac- 
counted for in apportioning the income under 
special conditions. But the point to be remem- 
bered is that the business manager must always 
be in a position to say to the board, "Your next 
production cannot safely cost more than such- 
and-such an amount." And the artist-director 
must trim his budget to come within that amount. 
If he complains that he is hampered by the low 
expenditure allowed, the controlling group can 
point out only two ways to meet the situation: 
choose plays less expensive to produce, or cut 
down the number of productions. For the first 
law of little theatre economics is that the cost of 
production must be kept within the means avail- 
able. 

205 



The Art Theatre 



In setting down here lists of the expenditures 
and receipts of a typical American little theatre, I 
do not mean to suggest that these can be made the 
basis of a budget for a mature art theatre scheme. 
Beyond pointing out that sound business manage- 
ment is necessary to the ideal institution, as it is 
to its forerunner, the little theatre, one can say 
little definitely about the administration of a true 
repertory art theatre. There is no experience on 
which to base estimates. It is necessary to learn 
by establishing such theatres and applying com- 
mon sense during the first year — or by working 
forward phase by phase from the present amateur 
basis to the professionalized-amateur ideal. 

But this record should prove valuable to be- 
ginning groups, and suggestive to other theatre 
workers in the amateur field. The Arts and 
Crafts Theatre represents a typical phase through 
which the pre-art theatre must pass. Certainly 
most communities must have such a theatre be- 
fore they attain the ideal sketched in this book. 

In studying these figures one must take into 
consideration certain variable quantities and 
make allowance for items which differ as one 
moves from city to city. First it is to be remem- 
bered that the Society of Arts and Crafts owns 
206 



I 



Organization and Management 

its building, and therefore the item of rent does 
not appear. The settings were for the most part 
constructed in the theatre, and so cost consider- 
ably less than those bought from so-called scenic 
studios; and there is also a large saving here 
through the frequent use of variations of the 
permanent setting, and through volunteer labour 
in painting other settings. With those reserva- 
tions the figures are typical. 

Expenditures for Season or Five Productions 

First production $ 990.35 

Second production 954.24 

Third production 925.90 

Fourth production 866.99 

Fifth production 1,099.13 

Overhead expense (organization, box office, etc.) 1 519.24 
Permanent properties 50.82 

Total $5,406.67 

APPORTIONMENT of expenditures 

Royalties $ 315.00 

Properties 143.75 

Costumes 519.91 

Settings: Lumber $142.65 

Dry goods 61.24 

Paints 56.23 

Hardware 130.98 

Labour 126.00 517.10 

1 This overhead charge does not, of course, include the director's 

207 



The Art Theatre 

Electrical supplies and electrician $ 100.49 

Extra labour (carpenter and electrician) 102.75 

Stage-hands 95.25 

Wigs and make-up 83.00 

Music 39.00 

Printing 273.85 

Typing parts 15.95 

Cartage 35.09 

Director's salary (five months) x 2,500.00 

General expense 2 665.53 

Total $5,406.67 

RECEIPTS 

Subscriptions $4,412.50 

Box office sales 1,083.75 

Total $5,496.25 

salary. One month's salary is charged against each of the five 
productions. 

1 At the end of the year the question came up whether this item 
was not excessively large in proportion to the whole cost of the 
season. It must be remembered that in this particular case the 
Director's salary covered also that of a business manager, since 
Mrs. Hume did practically all the work with which that officer 
would be charged. But the argument which brought about Mr. 
Hume's re-appointment was this: it is better to employ at a high 
cost the best artist-director available, and end the season with a 
record of both artistic and financial success, than to employ a 
cheaper director and have poorer productions with a probable 
deficit at the end of the year. 

2 This item includes box office expense, advertising, fees to lec- 
turers, and the unapportioned item mentioned on page 202, as well 
as the usual incidentals. 

208 



Organization and Management 

The box office sales were as follows: 1st pro- 
duction, $214.75; 2nd production, $130.00; 3rd 
production, $215.50; 4th production, $238.50; 
5th production, $285.00. There was thus a 
steady gain in sales from the second play to the 
last. 

VI 

Advertising is a matter of puzzlement to the 
average little theatre group. The mature art 
theatre, playing continuously, will have to an- 
nounce its offerings through newspaper columns; 
but even it will save all that the commercial man- 
ager now spends for display space in the papers 
and on billboards. And for the average little 
theatre it is a question whether any sort of bought 
advertising pays. Those of us who have had to 
do with the project at Detroit, at any rate, have 
become convinced that publicity for such a theatre 
depends on pleasing the audiences so that they 
talk about the productions and encourage other 
people to come. The only productions adver- 
tised in the newspapers were the second and third 
in the series; the box office returns on the second 
were the lowest during the season, and the gain 
shown on the third was not such as would indi- 
cate that the advertising had any effect on at- 
tendance. The money paid to the newspapers 
seems to have been dead waste. 

209 



i 



The Art Theatre 

The publicity gained through newspaper criti- 
cisms likewise seemed to have little effect on the 
growth of the theatre. At first an effort was 
made to interest the dramatic critics. The lead- 
ing morning paper boasts that its dramatic de- 
partment is directed by the dean of American 
critics. It is a commentary on the state of 
American criticism that this writer not only re- 
fused to cover the first production at the Arts and 
Crafts Theatre, but did not once set foot in the 
house during the season. He wrote amiably 
enough of musical comedies and other importa- 
tions from Broadway, but he let it be known that 
it would be beneath his dignity to attend the pro- 
ductions of unpaid actors. The critics of the 
evening papers proved to be less case-hardened, 
and even though the assignment was given as 
often as not to a sporting writer or a cub reporter, 
the reviews toward the end of the season showed 
many gleams of intelligent appreciation and 
criticism. But the average was such that during 
the coming season, if the director has his way, 
the theatre will issue no press passes. If the 
papers consider the productions of sufficient news 
value to warrant paying the usual admittance fee, 
they can send their reviewers. Their attitude in 
the past has not made it worth while for the pro- 
moters to meet them halfway. 

210 l 



Organization and Management 

Detroit, unfortunately, is not an exceptional 
city in the matter of dramatic criticism. En- 
lightened and unprejudiced reviews are univer- 
sally rare. It was part of the theatrical trust's 
work to stifle honest criticism, and to gain control 
of all channels of publicity. American news- 
paper owners, be it said to their dishonour, bowed 
to the system as a rule. That was nearly twenty 
years ago; but even today the relation between 
the average paper's advertising department and 
its dramatic reviews is such as to make news- 
paper honesty a matter for national shame. 

The venal press, to my mind, has had much to 
do with the degradation of the theatre in this 
country, and particularly with the apathy with 
which the public has come to view the playhouse. 
At first the papers destroyed all dramatic stand- 
ards by printing what they were paid to print, 
regardless of the value of the play in question. 
But the public was not long fooled. Intelligent 
people merely realized that they could not believe 
what they read in the papers, and stopped going 
to the theatres unless they read in some reliable 
magazine review that a certain play was worth 
while. It is this attitude which now makes the 
way of the progressive theatre difficult, and which 
largely nullifies the great aid the newspapers 
might otherwise extend to the little theatres. We 

211 



The Art Theatre 

need a new standard of criticism as well as a new 
theatre. 

vn 

Endowment is probably necessary to the de- 
velopment of the best type of art theatre. In in- 
sisting upon good business management I have 
tried to make clear the reservation that this does 
not necessarily mean complete self-support. 
Business efficiency means merely elimination of 
waste, and when one has it, one may still need to 
lean upon a subsidy. It is certain that a theatre 
searching for the highest ideal must have aid in 
the beginning; and even in its maturity an en- 
dowment is likely to make it a real art institution 
instead of a compromise. 

In Europe the best theatres are seldom expected 
to succeed as speculative business ventures. The 
most important theatres in France and Germany, 
with a few exceptions, are to be found in the list 
of those receiving state, municipal, or private sub- 
sidies. When one thinks of the playhouses in 
which greatest progress has been made toward the 
new synthetic ideal of production, one remembers 
that the Moscow Art Theatre, now a profitable 
affair, was able to get through its early years only 
by the generosity of a wealthy amateur; and the 
Irish Players survived their early struggles by 
212 



Organization and Management 

grace of Miss Horniman's subsidy. In this 
country the Arts and Crafts Theatre is endowed 
to the extent of being freed from the rent burden, 
and the Neighborhood Playhouse in New York 
operates under the same advantage. The Chi- 
cago Little Theatre, on the other hand, staggered 
for years under the rent charge. But it recently 
created for itself a sort of endowment after-the- 
fact by going through bankruptcy proceedings. 
But America has yet to see a properly subsidized 
playhouse. 

When a writer or artist says that he wants en- 
dowed theatres, people begin to talk about the 
New Theatre, or others made in its image. I 
have already pointed out that that institution was 
not really endowed; and even if it had been, it 
would have had to go through many radical 
changes to become a true art theatre. We do not 
want institutions of that sort, and we especially 
do not want theatres similarly unrelated to their 
communities. What I wish to see is wise sub- 
sidizing of the really progressive little theatres 
that have their roots in native soil, with a grow- 
ing endowment as they progress toward art 
theatre stature. 

No sort of endowment is worth while if it gives 
an unenlightened rich man control over produc- 
tions. The stage must be left to the artists, with- 

213 



The Art Theatre 

out interference from those who have made their 
activity possible. It is unwise, moreover, to give 
patrons a reward in the shape of an option on 
the best seats in the house. Endowment should 
be absolute, leaving the theatre free economically 
and artistically. It should provide for adminis- 
tration through a controlling board, which should 
be representative of the community and which 
should have artistic insight enough to employ the 
right artists. Beyond that provision the rich 
man should make no restrictions on his gift. 

It seems to be the rule in Anglo-Saxon countries 
that art must thrive on starvation or die. Our 
commercial organization makes no provision for 
adequate return to the artist for his product. 
The better the quality of the art, the less is offered 
in exchange for it. Those who have the means to 
encourage the creative artist usually lack the taste 
and discernment necessary to recognize the 
worthy, and the passion for art which would 
make their giving seem necessary. Achievement 
of the ideal art theatre, nevertheless, largely de- 
pends upon opportunity created by moneyed peo- 
ple. It all comes back to the question, "How are 
we to persuade the unseeing millionaire?" 

I trust that the few millionaires with whom I 
have talked about these things will realize that I 
speak of their kind in the abstract — for I know 
214 



Organization and Management 

that there are fine exceptions to the rule of art- 
blindness. But I confess that I have wondered, 
as I sat with some of them, that they so failed to 
see the true and ultimate value of things — that 
they so entirely overlooked the chance to do a 
lasting service (and incidentally achieve a lasting 
fame) in the building of civilization. For I be- 
lieve passionately in art as a force for salvation — 
that the things art brings, beauty and spiritual 
growth, are the most important things in human 
life. And so when the mood is on me, even my 
friends' millions are not safe from my envy, nor 
do I keep myself from ruminating on what an art 
institution the spending of those millions would 
yield. 

I see him (in the composite) before me now, 
sitting there talking of his practical problems, 
while I wonder at all the possibilities for good or 
evil — or worse still, just for common uselessness 
— that are shut up in his checkbook. I am im- 
patient at times when I think of his imitation 
Italian sunken garden, on which he has squan- 
dered the price of an ideal art theatre building; 
and I sometimes see a suggestion of injustice in 
his second automobile, that would secure a strug- 
gling artist five years of study and creative effort. 
As often as not I end by thinking that after all 
we might just as well give up the effort for a sub- 

215 



The Art Theatre 

sidized art — that after all we are Anglo-Saxons, 
and may as well resign ourselves to the traditional 
Anglo-Saxon way. 

But at other times, I think that I see a way to 
bring art and those millions together. After we 
artists, and dreamers, and radicals, and planners, 
have passed through a few years of struggle (he 
knows that struggle is good for our souls — but 
sometimes he forgets that the soul dries up after 
too many years of it) we shall emerge with ideas 
too clearly right, and too well-ordered, for him to 
stand out against them. Then if we show him 
that we have declared for sound business man- 
agement, as well as for art, he will be won over, 
checkbook and all. And then we shall have a 
chain of wisely endowed efficient art theatres 
from the Atlantic Coast to the Pacific. 



216 



CHAPTER X 

BUILDINGS AND EQUIPMENT 

WHEN artists of the theatre set out to 
capture that illusive thing called 
mood, they proceed by bringing har- 
mony into every related part of the production. 
In voice, in movement, in lighting, in scene, they 
attempt to create an atmosphere which will be all- 
pervasive, and which will project itself as a spir- 
itual spell over the spectators in the auditorium. 
But they are handicapped at the start if the build- 
ing in which the play is presented does not serve 
to foster that mood, if it tends to destroy rather 
than reinforce the spiritual milieu of the produc- 
tion. The synthetic ideal has a very definite 
connotation in relation to theatre architecture; the 
connection is such, indeed, that one cannot insist 
too strongly upon the necessity of housing an art 
theatre in a noble building. 



American theatre architecture as a rule is pre- 
tentious, ornate, and thoroughly vulgar. When 

217 



The Art Theatre 

architects approached the problem of building a 
playhouse they accepted a totally false conception 
of their duty. They saw the theatre as a place of 
amusement designed to attract the money-spend- 
ing public, and so they reflected its commercial 
character in glitter, gaudiness and red-plush pre- 
tentiousness. They accepted the business man's 
estimate of the theatre as the home of "the show 
business." And so their buildings range from a 
type neighbouring on the sensational five-cent 
moving-picture house to a type conceived as a sort 
of Coney Island for intellectuals. They found 
what they considered authoritative precedent for 
"heaping it on" in that culmination of the French- 
Italian social-dramatic ideal, the ornate Paris 
Opera House. 

And so today the average American theatre is 
entirely out of key with everything that the new 
art of the theatre stands for. It is not dignified, 
or simple, or beautiful; it not only fails to re- 
inforce actively the mood evoked by the play, 
but it is not even neutral and reposeful enough 
to leave the spectator's mind free to enjoy that 
mood. A vast majority of the existing play- 
houses in America must be abandoned by the in- 
surgents to the commercial theatre, together with 
most of the people and plays in them. 



218 



Buildings and Equipment 

ii 

A few theatres have been built recently which 
approach the new ideal. While we Americans 
have not made one-tenth the progress of the Ger- 
mans, for instance, and while we have not an 
architect who can be named in the same breath 
with Max Littmann, we can look with real satis- 
faction on Winthrop Ames' Little Theatre; and 
we can find encouragement in certain features of 
the Arts and Crafts Theatre, the Chicago Little 
Theatre, the Artists' Guild Theatre, the Neigh- 
borhood Playhouse, and two or three others of the 
newer buildings. 

These playhouses tend to reflect in their design 
and decoration the underlying principles of the 
art of the theatre. In their best aspects they are 
marked by those things which distinguish the new 
movement from the old tendencies. They are 
characterized by a noble simplicity of design, 
sincerity, reticence and reposefulness. They are 
pleasing in an unobtrusive way, and not in the 
boastful manner of the Paris Opera. They are 
planned to harmonize with the best phases of 
dramatic art, and not with its surface glitter. 

I once tried to sketch my architectural ideal of 
a playhouse, and I wish to quote this earlier de- 
scription as suggesting what I believe the Ameri- 

219 



The Art Theatre 

can art theatre should be in design and decora- 
tion. "In the first place it is clear that the build- 
ing will not attract the eye by gorgeousness and 
intricacy, but rather will satisfy it simply, with a 
sense of beauty and repose. The facade will be 
distinguished by sobriety and simplicity. There 
will be in it the dignity that breeds solemnity — 
that dignity which heretofore has been reserved 
almost exclusively for the church. . . . The 
theatre architect, when once he has recognized the 
qualities that the facade should reflect, will real- 
ize that the perfect accomplishment is less a mat- 
ter of decorating — what crimes have been com- 
mitted in the name of decoration ! — than the per- 
fect balancing of simple lines and well-ordered 
masses. Avoiding on the one hand the fussy and 
the gaudy, and on the other the classically cold, 
he will evolve from the infinite possibilities that 
combination of restful lines and perfect spacing 
which most exactly solves the problem at hand, 
and most perfectly reflects the inner spirit of 
drama. 

"Within the theatre there will be quite as rigid 
exclusion of distracting detail and unmeaning 
ornament. In the interior even more than in the 
exterior it is desirable that everything shall be 
designed to induce concentration rather than to 
scatter the attention. A chaste simplicity in 
220 



Buildings and Equipment 

decorative forms, and a beautiful and subtle har- 
mony in colouring, are far more conducive to a 
sense of calm contemplation than a riot of un- 
meaning ornament and brilliant colour. 1 A 
certain richness in decoration is not out of place 
within the theatre, but it should be less the rich- 
ness of profusion than that which comes from 
simple forms combined with just the right deco- 
rative touch by a master artist." 

Is it necessary to add that the art theatre will 
be democratic? That it will offer a complete 
and satisfying view of the stage from every seat? 
That the old horse-shoe style of auditorium will 
give way to the simpler form adopted by Littmann 
and others of the leading progressives? That 
the chairs will not be deeply cushioned in one 
portion of the house, decently covered in another, 
and merely bare wooden benches in another? 
And of course I cast my vote against having any 
boxes in a sensible theatre. They are relics of 
a barbaric era, when the display of wealth was 

1 Just such chaste simplicity and delicacy of colouring made 
Helen Freeman's Nine O' Clock Theatre in New York a joy to 
the beholder. The theatre was closed almost before its work 
had started, so that its dramatic achievement was slight; but 
every theatre designer should have been forced to visit it as an 
object lesson. In no other auditorium have I experienced the 
same feeling of restfulness, and the same sense of freedom from 
jarring notes. 

221 



The Art Theatre 

a primary aim, and when the social occasion was 
more important than the dramatic. 

ni 

The architect who plans an art theatre must be 
trained in more than the aesthetic requirements 
of synthetic production; he must have wide 
knowledge of the technical demands as well. He 
must be a very close student of modern stagecraft, 
or his building may prove to be out-of-date and 
impossible for the new artist of the theatre when 
the first production goes on. He must know that 
a plaster dome (or provision for the best sort of 
cyclorama) is an absolute necessity. If the 
owners are ready to pay for all that the artist 
asks, the architect must be informed about revolv- 
ing stages and sliding stages. He must know 
also what the artist means by "fixed portals" and 
"inner proscenium," and he should know what 
has been done toward the invention of a satisfac- 
tory adjustable proscenium. He must know 
why Fortuny set out to revolutionize stage light- 
ing, what he accomplished, and what modifica- 
tions later artists have made by way of improv- 
ing his system. In this matter of lighting equip- 
ment particularly the architect must have the most 
comprehensive knowledge, if he would do justice 
to the producers who will use his theatre. For it 
222 



Buildings and Equipment 

is no longer possible to let out to an electrical firm 
a blanket contract for "a lighting system." 

As a matter of fact there is not an architect in 
the country today who combines the necessary 
knowledge of his own art with the necessary ex- 
perience on a stage. It is a sweeping statement; 
but a moment's reflection should resolve all 
doubts. For the reform in stagecraft has been 
developing so rapidly that only those working 
continually in the progressive theatres know ab- 
solutely which of the new inventions are practical 
and which are more dangerous than useful. The 
really important architect cannot take time to ex- 
periment day in and day out with the latest in- 
novations ; and as yet there are no books that tell 
one-tenth the story. 

For a group planning to build a little theatre 
or a big theatre — indeed, any building at all ap- 
proaching art theatre standards — I should ad- 
vise just one solution of the stage equipment prob- 
lem: call in one of the really progressive artist- 
directors, and let him and the architect fight it out, 
with the provision that the artist-director's word 
shall be final in all questions of equipment be- 
hind the curtain. 

Do not let the architect do it alone — we have 
more than enough monuments to his ignorance — 
and do not let him work it out with the sort of 

223 



The Art Theatre 

professional advice he is likely to call to his aid 
from the business theatre. Call in, rather, an 
experienced artist of the type of Sam Hume or 
Maurice Browne; or if it be a monumental 
theatre, Joseph Urban. These people know the 
stage and stage equipment in the light of the new 
ideals. Their advice is likely to save the theatre 
from the necessity of making expensive altera- 
tions later— and it will save a deal of cussing and 
disappointment on the part of the artists. 

IV 

The size of an ideal art theatre is a matter for 
speculation rather than for estimate on the basis 
of experience. The very large theatre is doubt- 
less passing. The house seating two thousand 
or more people is going out of fashion because its 
dimensions are such that the intimacy demanded 
by the new ideal is impossible there. On the 
other hand, there is a tendency on the part of the 
insurgents to make their auditoriums too small, 
even where space and expense do not dictate a 
limit. Littleness is made a fetich, and many 
a group will waken later to the fact that the size 
of its auditorium is limiting its artistic develop- 
ment. 

My own ideal theatre would provide a seating 
capacity of seven or eight hundred. It is by no 
224 



Buildings and Equipment 

means certain that a repertory playhouse of that 
size could be made a financial success in an aver- 
age American city without a substantial subsidy. 
But it seems to me that such a theatre would come 
nearest to combining economic independence 
with a satisfying intimacy of atmosphere. It 
might be possible to bring the number of seats up 
to approximately one thousand and still avoid the 
barn-like atmosphere of most of our existing 
theatres. 

In other words, a theatre seating fewer than 
seven hundred people is likely to demand, for con- 
tinuous art theatre production by a paid com- 
pany, a larger subsidy than any we can now rea- 
sonably expect; and a smaller theatre, moreover, 
will not be able to serve its city as a community 
playhouse in any wide sense. On the other 
hand, a theatre seating more than a thousand is 
likely to be too vast in proportions to foster the 
sense of intimacy and to keep the attention of all 
the spectators concentrated on the stage. The 
ideal art theatre figure seems to lie between these 
limits. 

V 

I have said nothing about planning dressing- 
rooms. I take it for granted that the architect 
will consider that the art theatre is to be used by 

225 



The Art Theatre 

ladies and gentlemen, and that their dressing- 
rooms are to be quite different from the pens pro- 
vided in the usual commercial theatre. He will 
remember, too, that the green room disappeared 
from the American playhouse only when business- 
men got the upper hand, and he will restore it in 
his design. And if he can make space available 
by any sort of manipulation, he should add a 
rehearsal hall. 

But now that I am writing about what he might 
do, instead of what he must do, let me add that 
the theatre I dream of — the building I shall have 
when I am considerably older and immeasur- 
ably wealthier than now — will be a double 
theatre. It will have a large auditorium and a 
small — one for the usual types of drama, and the 
other for very intimate plays and for experi- 
ments. And both these auditoriums will be beau- 
tiful according to the principles I have tried to 
suggest at the beginning of this chapter. Both 
stages will be equipped under the supervision of 
the most enlightened artist-director in the coun- 
try. And there will be a library for study as well 
as a rehearsal hall. And if I am very wealthy 
indeed, there will be an open-air theatre by way of 
annex. 

Yes, it is only a dream. But only when a num- 
ber of us dream such things shall we be able to 
226 



Buildings and Equipment 

jolt the architect out of his preoccupation with 
theatre ideals and theatre forms of an age that is 
as dead as Bulwer-Lytton and Boucicault. Only 
as we dream of the ideal shall we have something 
as finely satisfying as the half-dozen existing ex- 
ceptions to the popular rule — the rule of making 
the playhouse a gilded barn of commerce. 



227 



CHAPTER XI 

UNREALIZED IDEALS 

THIS book has been largely about unreal- 
ized ideals, and the title of this epilogue 
might stand over more than half the 
chapters. The artists in the theatre stand only 
on the threshold of achievement, and the art thea- 
tre of the future looms up as an unformed half- 
imagined thing. But I wish here at the end of 
my book to stand facing forward at that thresh- 
old, to gather together the several threads that 
have brought the artists there, and to gaze with 
them (half -dumb, I am afraid) at the wondrous 
thing that still awaits accomplishment. 



I think I see spread before me a new dramatic 
map of America. It is not like the old one — 
which appeared so strangely like an octopus, with 
its bulk over New York and its arms stretching 
out to Canada and Texas and the West coast. 
Instead there are many independent centres. 
228 



Unrealized Ideals 

Each represents, I am told, a native playhouse 
which is concerned with the art of the theatre, 
just as in these same cities there are galleries con- 
cerned with painting and sculpture, and libraries 
concerned with serious literature. The buildings 
are individually beautiful, and one recognizes in- 
stinctively that they are theatres — that is, not 
amusement halls, but places for seeing beautiful 
things on a stage. Some of these buildings are 
owned by small groups of artists and workers, 
others by larger groups of art-lovers, still others 
by organized audiences, and finally, a few by 
municipalities. They all are administered, how- 
ever, through enlightened groups of artists, and 
each has its artist-director who is in full charge 
of staging. Each has a reasonable appropria- 
tion each year, sometimes coming entirely from 
admission fees, and sometimes partly from en- 
dowments; but always the funds are handled in 
a businesslike way through a business manager 
(for these playhouses have outgrown little thea- 
tre methods). And finally, the native playwright 
gets his chance along with Shakespeare and Synge 
and Maeterlinck — -and, be it noted, he is writing 
plays not unworthy of the honour. 

If you ask the artists in one of these playhouses, 
they will tell you that it grew on foundations laid 
years ago by a group of visionaries who founded 

229 



The Art Theatre 

an amateurish little theatre; they were laughed 
at by the know-it-alls of the business theatre, se- 
cure in the knowledge of traditional ways of 
doing things; but they learned gradually to dis- 
card the weaknesses of the amateur while retain- 
ing his love of the work, and they chose certain 
good things and a few good people out of the com- 
mercial theatre without taking over any of the 
tricks and vulgarities of the commercial institu- 
tion. And finally they became professionals of a 
finer sort than any employed by the businessmen, 
and their playhouse became recognized as some- 
thing as necessary to the community as the art 
gallery or the library or the schools. 

That is the ideal in general; and that will be 
the method of its coming. 

If you ask me why I am confident that it will 
come, when we have not now a single example of 
an art theatre housed in a perfect home, with a 
reasonable appropriation and ideally organized, 
I can only point to the Arts and Crafts Theatre 
and the Chicago Little Theatre and the Washing- 
ton Square Players, and say that here are tangible 
evidences that many artists and some men of 
money have seen the new ideal. Indeed, that 
threshold is becoming a bit crowded. And just 
a few are crossing it, with timid feet, perhaps, and 
they are peering down one corridor after another. 
230 



Unrealized Ideals 

After a while, as more artists and more million- 
aires become interested, and when experience 
lightens the dark places a bit, they will step in 
boldly and become masters of the house. 



231 



A DISCURSIVE BIBLIOGRAPHY 

A BIBLIOGRAPHY should be a guide 
from which the student can learn 
quickly where to turn for authoritative 
information about a given phase of a subject. 
But I have learned from experience that it usually 
is a list of titles of all books even remotely con- 
nected with that subject — a list that requires study 
in itself and leads into many false trails. The 
brief bibliography that follows makes no pre- 
tence to completeness. But I hope that it may 
serve, better than any hitherto published, to lead 
the reader to the best printed material (in Eng- 
lish) about the progressive movement in the 
theatre. 

The pioneer among general works on the newer 
tendencies of theatre art (as distinguished from 
mere drama) is Huntly Carter's "The New Spirit 
in Drama and Art" (New York: Kennerley, 
1912). This contains first-hand accounts of 
theatres and methods of production in the prin- 
cipal European cities. While the material is 
occasionally coloured by Carter's individualistic 
theories, and is not closely co-ordinated, the chap- 

233 



A Discursive Bibliography 

ters are invariably entertaining and remarkably 
suggestive. The volume should be studied and 
re-studied by every one interested in the new 
theatre. A more practical handbook of informa- 
tion about the progressive theatre in its technical, 
artistic and literary aspects is Hiram Kelly 
ModerwelPs "The Theatre of Today" (New 
York: Lane, 1914). This contains an immense 
amount of detailed material about modern plays, 
methods of staging, organization, etc., and is ab- 
solutely indispensable to students of and workers 
in the art theatre. The only other book attempt- 
ing to sum up modern tendencies of the theatre 
as well as drama is my work "The New Move- 
ment in the Theatre" (New York: Kennerley, 
1914). I attempted therein to summarize the 
movement as it affected not only types of play, 
but stagecraft, theatre architecture, etc. 

Of books of theory, by far the most important 
is Gordon Craig's "On the Art of the Theatre" 
(Chicago: Browne's Bookstore, 1911). The 
reader will find this remarkable volume preg- 
nant with new ideas, and stimulating in its urge 
to get away from tradition and to do creative 
work in the theatre. It is the most important 
source book of the new movement. "Towards a 
New Theatre" (New York: Dutton, 1913) con- 
tains forty of Craig's designs, and its text is worth 
234 



A Discursive Bibliography 

reading and then re-reading. There is no Eng- 
lish translation of Adolphe Appia's important 
work "Die Musik und die Inscenierung," nor is 
there even a fair transcription of his theories into 
English. A summary may be found in French 
in Jacques Rouche's "L'Art Theatral Moderne," 
which, by the way, is the most valuable French 
work on progressive theatre methods. Of the 
theories and achievements of Max Reinhardt 
there is an excellent analytical account in Huntly 
Carter's "The Theatre of Max Reinhardt'' (New 
York: Kennerley, 1914). This treats inciden- 
tally of most of the theories and sources of the art 
theatre movement, and is a book of prime im- 
portance. 

Of special phases of modern theatre develop- 
ment, the literary revival has received most at- 
tention from writers. Of interpretative accounts 
by far the best is Ludwig Lewisohn's "The Mod- 
ern Drama" (New York: Huebsch, 1915), al- 
though one must make allowance for the author's 
bias toward Hauptmann and for an over-valua- 
tion of the realistic movement. A more extensive, 
but undigested and diffuse account is to be found 
in Frank Wadleigh Chandler's "Aspects of 
Modern Drama" (New York: Macmillan, 1914). 
A more scholarly and philosophical work, and one 
dealing extensively with the social implications 

235 



A Discursive Bibliography 

of the new drama, is Archibald Henderson's "The 
Changing Drama" (New York: Holt, 1914). It 
is, however, not a good book for the beginning 
student. More in the nature of textbooks, with 
study-lists and questions, are the volumes of Bar- 
rett H. Clark: "British and American Drama of 
Today" and "Continental Drama of Today" 
(New York : Holt, 1915). At the other extreme, 
but still concerned exclusively with the literary 
aspect of the theatre, are these volumes of essays 
about individual dramatists: P. P. Howe's 
"Dramatic Portraits" (New York: Kennerley, 
1913) and James Huneker's "Iconoclasts: A 
Book of Dramatists" (New York: Scribner's, 
1905). 

Of material about individual theatres, too little 
has been put into book form. Ernest A. Boyd's 
"The Contemporary Drama of Ireland" is almost 
exclusively an account of the literary-amateur 
movement which resulted in the success of the 
Irish Players, and so makes stimulating reading 
for those interested in the non-commercial theatre 
elsewhere. Desmond MacCarthy's "The Court 
Theatre, 1904-1907" (London: Bullen, 1907) is 
a suggestive account of the important Vedrenne- 
Barker art theatre experiment in London. The 
Deutsches Theatre finds extended treatment in 
Carter's "The Theatre of Max Reinhardt," men- 
236 



A Discursive Bibliography 

tioned above. It is unfortunate that there are no 
translations of A. Thalasso's "Le Theatre Libre/ ' 
which describes Antoine's experiment in detail, 
and Georg Fuchs' "Die Revolution des Thea- 
tres," which is a statement of the principles 
upon which the Munich Art Theatre was 
founded. 

Interesting material about theatre organization 
may be found in Archer and Barker's "Schemes 
and Estimates for a National Theatre" (London: 
Duckworth, 1911). The repertory system is 
treated at length in P. P. Howe's "The Repertory 
Theatre, A Record and a Criticism" (New York: 
Kennerley, 1911). Percy MacKaye's two vol- 
umes, "The Playhouse and the Play" (New 
York: Macmillan, 1909) and "The Civic Thea- 
tre" (New York: Kennerley, 1912), will prove 
suggestive rather than informative, but are worthy 
of attention. In order to know the organization 
of the business theatre, and thus to learn many 
things to avoid and a few to copy, the progressive 
worker should read Arthur Edwin Krows' "Play 
Production in America" (New York: Holt, 
1916). It is a remarkably complete and detailed 
account of the commercial theatre as it exists; 
but it is coloured by the author's desire to make 
out a case for the American producer as against 
the European, and it shows lack of understand- 

237 



A Discursive Bibliography 

ing of some of the first principles of art theatre 
production. 

There is no satisfactory book in English deal- 
ing with theatre architecture. The so-called 
standard work, Edwin O. Sachs' "Modern Opera 
Houses and Theatres" (London: Batsford, 
1908), is important historically, but is now en- 
tirely out-of-date in its treatment of both theatre 
design and equipment. Material about the mod- 
ern form of theatre building is scattered, and is 
to be found only by laborious search through 
many German books and magazines. The mat- 
ter is touched upon briefly in Moderwell's "The 
Theatre of Today," Carter's "The New Spirit in 
Drama and Art" and my "The New Movement 
in the Theatre." 

Current conditions in the American theatre are 
best reflected, perhaps, in the collected dramatic 
reviews of Walter Prichard Eaton and Clayton 
Hamilton. A more studied general review is to 
be found in certain chapters of Thomas H. Dick- 
inson's valuable volume "The Case of American 
Drama" (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, 1915). 

Of periodicals the most important one dealing 
with the new theatre exclusively is Gordon 
Craig's "The Mask" (Florence, Italy: The Arena 
Goldoni, 1908-1915). This publication is full 
of that stimulating quality which marks all of 
238 



A Discursive Bibliography 

Craig's writings, and it has already had great in- 
fluence in shaping the progressive theatre. The 
Drama, A Quarterly Review of Dramatic Liter- 
ature (Chicago: The Drama League of America, 
1911-date) has published much valuable mate- 
rial on the literary aspect, and occasional articles 
of a broader nature. Theatre Arts Magazine 
(Detroit: The Arts and Crafts Theatre, 1916- 
date) is devoted entirely to progressive tendencies 
in the theatre, and is taking its place as the organ 
of the art theatre groups in this country. 



239 



APPENDIX 

A LIST OF PRODUCTIONS AT THE ARTS AND 
CRAFTS THEATRE DURING ITS FIRST SEA- 
SON, 1916-1917, WITH THE CASTS 

Because it was part of the purpose of this book to record 
in permanent form the activities of the Arts and Crafts 
Theatre during its first year, the full list of productions 
is here given, with lists of those taking part: 

Dedicatory Performance : four one-act plays 

I. Sham, by Frank G. Tompkins 

Mr. Hibbert John Townley 

Charles Charles E. Hilton 

Clara Lento Fulwell 

Reporter Loren T. Robinson 

II. The Tents of the Arabs, by Lord Dunsany 

Bel-Narb Carl Guske 

Aoob Eugene J. Sharkey 

The King R. J. Elliott 

The Chamberlain Harry B. Elliott 

Zabra Edward Loud 

Eznarza Louise Vhay 

III. The Bank Account, by Howard Brock 

Lottie Benson Phyllis Povah Elton 

May Harding Winifred Scripps Ellis 

Frank Benson A. L. Weeks 

241 



Appendix 

IV. The Wonder Hat, by Kenneth Sawyer Goodman 

Harlequin Sam Hume 

Pierrot Charles E. Hilton 

Punchinello A. L. Weeks 

Columbine Lento Fulwell 

Margot Betty Brooks 

First Production of the Little Theatre Season: three one- 
act plays 

I. Abraham and Isaac 

The cast of this old English play was made up largely 
of choruses. The following were the principal partici- 
pants: Sam Hume, Frances Loughton, Eugene Rodman 
Shippen, Carl Guske and Aldred J. Jones. 

II. The Revesby Sword Play 

Pickle Herring Theodore Viehman 

The Fool William Strauer 

Blue Breeches Winniett Wright 

Ginger Breeches , Edwin Fiske 

Pepper Breeches Herbert Wagner 

Yellow Breeches Theodore Keiser 

Mr. Allspice David Burgess 

Cicely Clyde Varney 

The Hobby Horse Seymour Van Hauton 

The Dragon Edward Loud 

Mr. Music Man Herbert Harrison 

THE MANOR HOUSE GROUP 

Laura Osborne Mary Glassford 

R. J. Elliott Harry Elliott 

Sidney Corbett 
242 



Appendix 



III. Ephraim and the Winged Bear, by Kenneth Saw- 
yer Goodman 

Ephraim Bumsteeple C. E. Hilton 

Bertha Eva W. Victor 

A Maid jMarian McMichael 

Edward Sheets A. L. Weeks 

A Young Woman Lento Fulwell 

A Young Man Samuel L. Breck 

Bear R. A. Cass 

Second Production 

The Chinese Lantern, by Lawrence Housman 

Olangtsi C. E. Hilton 

Mrs. Olangtsi Maude Haass 

Yunglangtsi A. L. Weeks 

Hiti-Titi Harry Elliott 

Han-Kin George B. Wehner 

Tee-Pee R. A. Cass 

New-Lyn H. Clyde Varney 

Nau-Tee Vincent Bernard 

Josi-Mosi Winniett Wright 

Cosi-Mosi Walter Boynton 

Tikipu Don Anchors 

Mee-Mee Frances Loughton 

Wiowani Carl Guske 

Third Production: four one-act plays 

I. Helena's Husband, by Philip Moeller 

Helena Doris Dretzka 

Tsumu Mabel Woodward 

Menelaus Edgar W. Bowen 

243 



i 



Appendix 



Analytikos , A. L. Weeks 

Paris Gerald S. Patton 

II. Trifles, by Susan Glaspell 

George Henderson W. V. McKee 

Henry Peters Winniett Wright 

Lewis Hale L. W. Porter 

Mrs. Peters Bertha Barney 

Mrs. Hale .Helen B. Mitchel 

III. The Glittering Gate, by Lord Dunsany 

Jim A. L. Weeks 

Bill Sam Hume 

IV. The Lost Silk Hat, by Lord Dunsany 

The Caller John H. Townley 

The Labourer A. L. Weeks 

The Clerk Gerald S. Patton 

The Poet Sam Hume 

The Policeman Winniett Wright 

Fourth Production: four one-act plays 

I. Lonesomelike, by Harold Brighouse 

Sarah Ormerod Blanche Barney 

Emma Brierley Phyllis P. Elton 

Sam Horrocks Sam Hume 

The Rev. Frank Alleyne. . . .Gerald S. Patton 

II. The Intruder, by Maurice Maeterlinck 

The Grandfather Carl Guske 

The Father .Winniett Wright 

The Uncle Marshall Pease 

Ursula Dora Clarke 

244 



Appendix 

Gertrude Dorothy Earle 

Genevieve Zoe Shippen 

The Sister of Charity Roxane Pierson 

The Maid Isobel Hurst 

III. The Last Man In, by W. B. Maxwell 

Mrs. Judd Pauletta Keena Page 

Mr. Judd Gerald S. Patton 

Mr. Billett «A. L. Weeks 

A Customer Winniett Wright 

The Doctor Charles W. McGannon 

The Last Man In ]Sam Hume 

IV. Suppressed Desires, by George Cram Cook and 

Susan Glaspell 

Henrietta Brewster Gertrude Kay 

Mabel Doris Dretzka 

Stephen Brewster W. V. McKee 

Fifth Production: three one-act plays 

I. The Constant Lover, by St. John Hankin 

Cecil Harburton Eric T. Clarke 

Evelyn Rivers Dora Clarke 

II. The Romance of the Rose: a Pantomime; Scenario 

by Sam Hume, Music by Timothy M. Spelman, 

2nd 

The Nurse Helen B. Mitchel 

The Girl Marjory Stearns 

The Villain Carl Guske 

The Father Charles E. Hilton 

The Troubadour George McMahon 

The Priest Clyde Varney 

245 



Appendix 



Harlequin , Theodore J. Smith 

First Dancer Albert Stewart 

Second Dancer Albert Siewert 

Third Dancer Floyd English 

Fourth Dancer John Weiss 

III. Doctor in Spite of Himself, by Moliere; Translated 
by Curtis Hidden Page 

Sganarelle ,A. L. Weeks 

Martine Rebecca Clarke 

Squire Robert Marshall Pease 

Valere Charles E. Hilton 

Lucas Gerald S. Patton 

Geronte Winniett Wright 

Jaqueline Irena Schnelker 

Lucinde Phyllis P. Elton 

Leandre George McMahon 



246 



INDEX 



Abbey Theatre, 40, 48, 140, 160 
Acting and actors, 96 
Acting, effect of commercial- 
ization upon, 24, 122 
Actor's place in art theatre, 

122 
Adapt a,ble settings, Sam 

Hume's, 165 
Advertising, 209 
Amateur and professional, 115 
Ames, Winthrop, 52, 53, 68, 71, 

113, 219 
Anglin, Margaret, 136 
Antoine, 32, 33 
Appia, Adolphe, 39, 60, 86, 147 
Architecture, Theatre, 28, 217 
Artist-Director, 37, 59, 74, 196 
Artists' Guild Theatre, 195, 219 
Arts and Crafts Theatre, 19, 
54, 74, 89, 115, 126, 141, 150, 
165, 179, 182, 193, 195, 202, 
206, 213, 219, 230 

Barker, Granville, 35, 139 
Barnsdall, Aline, 197 
Belasco, David, 146 
Bernhardt, Sarah, 101 
Bragdon, Claude, 65, 158 
Brieux, 139 
Browne, Maurice, 65, 74, 92, 

107, 120, 130, 224 
Buildings and equipment, 217 
Business management, 68, 188 



Chicago Little Theatre, 19, 54, 
57, 74, 119, 130, 136, 141, 
150, 159, 193, 213, 219, 230 
Civic drama, 70, 177 
Comedie Frangaise, 135 
Commercial theatre, 13, 21, 71 
Community theatre, 177 
Copeau, Jacques, 41, 51 
Craig, Gordon, 32, 35, 36, 49, 
61, 65, 74, 86, 88, 147, 160 

Dalcroze method, 105 

D'Annunzio, 138 

Deutsches Theatre, 40, 46', 74, 

104, 112 
Dickinson, Thomas H., 13 
Drama League, 175, 185 
Dreiser, Theodore, 143 
Drew, John, 110 
Dunsany, 19, 59, 102, 127, 128, 

138, 187 

•'Easiest Way, The," 142 
Eaton, Walter Prichard, 29, 

100 
Endowment, 212 
Euripides, 59, 130 
Experimental theatre, 66 

Free Folk Stage, Berlin, 180 
Freeman, Helen, 221 
Freie Biihne, 33, 34 
Fuchs, Georg, 32, 86 



Carter, Huntly, 45, 78, 105 



Galsworthy, John, 35, 137 

247 



Index 



Geddcs, Norman-Bel, 150, 157, 

159, 198 
Gibson, Wilfrid Wilson, 131 
Glaspell, Susan, 129, 143 
Goethe, 86 

Goodman, Edward, 131 
Goodman, Kenneth Sawyer, 

129 
"Great Divide, The," 142 
Grein, J. T., 34 

Hankin, St. John, 129, 131 
Hapgood, Norman, 29 
Hauptmann, 59, 138 
Head, Cloyd, 65, 143 
Heron, Herbert, 197 
Horniman, Miss A. E. F., 50, 

213 
Housman, Lawrence, 127 
Hull House Theatre, 184 
Hume, Sam, 74, 87, 115, 126, 

129, 147, 150, 157, 165, 182, 



Ibsen, 59, 131, 137 
Independent Theatre, 34 
Insurgent movement, 14 
Intimacy, the ideal of, 68 
Irish Players, 46, 106, 108, 121, 

160, 212 
Irving, Henry, 188 

Johnson, Raymond, 147, 150, 

158 
Jones, Robert Edmond, 27, 147, 

150 

Kennedy, Charles Rann, 186 
Kenyon, Charles, 142 

Lighting, 157 

Little Theatre, New York, 53, 
71, 219 

248 



Little Theatre, San Francisco, 

193 
Little Theatre movement, 17, 

29 
Littmann, Max, 219, 221 
Los Angeles Little Theatre, 

150, 159, 197 

Macgowan, Kenneth, 65 

MacKaye, Percy, 70, 142, 177 

McEwen, Katherine, 156, 198 

Maeterlinck, 59, 128, 138 

Marks, Josephine Peabody, 142 

Martyn, Edward, 49 

Masefleld, John, 59 

Moliere, 129 

Moody, William Vaughan, 186 

Moore, George, 49 

Moscow Art Theatre, 40, 41, 

67, 74, 104, 121, 155, 160, 

191, 212 
Munich Art Theatre, 40, 44, 

112 
Murray, Gilbert, 131 

Native drama, 139 
Naturalistic drama, 33 
Neighbourhood Playhouse, New 

York, 54, 186, 213, 219 
New Theatre, 52, 213 
Newspaper criticism, 210 
Nielsen, Kay, 156 
Nine O'Clock Theatre, 221 

Ordynski, Richard, 197 
Organization and Management, 
188 

Pichel, Irving, 197 
"Pierrot the Prodigal," 186' 
Pittsburgh Theatre Associa- 
tion, 201 



Index 



Players' Club, San Francisco,p 
193 

Players' Workshop, 24, 193 

Play writing, Effects of com- 
mercialization upon, 23 

Poel, William, 136 

"Poor Little Rich Girl, The," 
142 

Portmanteau Players, 54, 66, 
70, 97, 115 

Prairie Playhouse, 54, 185 

Provincetown Players, 24, 54, 
73, 140 

Realistic drama, 33, 35, 137 
Regisseur, The German, 86 
Reinhardt, Max, 47, 63, 70, 74, 

82, 154 
Repertory organization, 143 
Repertory theatres in England, 

51 
Rouche, Jacques, 41, 51 

Schnitzler, Arthur, 131, 137 

Screen settings, Gordon Craig's, 
160 

Shakespeare, 136 

Shaw, Bernard, 35, 59, 131, 137, 
139 

Stagecraft, The new, 27, 144 

Staging, effects of commercial- 
ization upon, 26 

Stanislavsky, 74, 86 

Star system, 25, 108 



Starke, Ottomar, 86 
Stock theatres, 72 
Strindberg, 131 
Stylization, 64, 154 
Subscription systems, 180 
Syndicate, the theatre, 21 
Synge, J. M., 131, 138, 140 
Synthetic ideal, 56 

ThSdtre Antoine, 33 
Theatre de VCEuvre, 41 
Theatre des Arts, 41 
ThSdtre du Vieux Colombier, 

41, 51 
Thedtre Libre, 33 
Theatre Libre movement, 33 
Thomas, Augustus, 142 
Tolstoy, 139 

Urban, Joseph, 27, 65, 151, 157, 
158, 168, 224 

Wagner, 86 

Washington Square Players, 17, 

54, 57, 73, 97, 114, 115, 121, 

141, 179, 186, 230 
Wilde, Oscar, 131 
Wisconsin Players, 54, 67 

Yeats, William Butler, 49, 65, 

102, 108, 131, 138, 140, 162 
"Yellow Jacket, The," 142, 186 
Ypsilanti Players, 184 



249 



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